From Anna

•
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Anna has always been the clumsy one in the·farpily ..t{
Somehow she can never do anything right! She-~
bumps into tables, and she can't read the btackboard "
at school. Her perfect brothers and sisters call her
"Awkward Anna." When Papa announces-that the
family is movjng from Germany to Canada, Anna's
heart sinks. How can she learn English when she
can't even read German? Nothing could be worse
than this!
But when the Soldens arrive in Canada, Anna
learns that there is a reason for her clumsiness. And
suddenly, wonderfully, her whole world begins to
change.
"This is a special book. Like a warm friendship, it
makes one different."
-Children's Book ReviewService
..
.--
;1
"Jean Little has again created realistic characters,
whose interactions make this a touching story with
which children will readily identify."
-School Library Journel;
'
:-"
Jean ume is·the author of another book about Anna
and her family, LISTEN FOR THE SINGING, also available
in a Harper
Trophy edition.
.
i,
~
CONTENTS
i
HarperCollins®, Ii®, Harper Trophy®, and I Can Read Book®
are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
FROM ANNA
Text copyright© 1972by Jean Little
Illustrations copyright© 1972by Joan Sandin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Printed in the United
Statesof America. For information address HarperCollins Children's Books,
a division of HarperCollins Publishers, IO East 53rd Street, New York,
N.Y. 10022.
LC Number 72-76505
ISBN 0-06-440044-1(pbk.)
First Harper Trophy edition, 1973.
1·
li
1. A SONG FOR HERR KEPPLER
2. THE TROUBLED TIMES
3. AWKWARD ANNA
4. "PAPA IS WRONG!"
5. ANNA FINDS A FRIEND
6. HALF A HOUSE
7. ANNA'S PLACE
8. DR. SCHUMACHER'S DISCOVERY
9. THE BEGINNING
10. A CHALLENGE
11. THE SECOND DAY
12. A DIFFERENT DIRECTION
13. AFTER SCHOOL
14. RUDI'S MEETING
15. MISS WILLIAMS ASKS
16. ANNA WORKS A MIRACLE
17. THE DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
18. CHRISTMAS. EVE
19. FROM ANNA
20. ONE MORE SURPRISE
1
12
27
43
53
59
69
75
85
93
103
113
123
137
147
155
167
177
185
194
For Anne
witbmylove
This story begins in Germany in the year 1933, a time
in that country's history when many of its citizens were
being denied personal freedoms and it was dangerous
for anyone to speak out against such injustice. Some
Germans, like Anna's father, became so worried about
the future they took their [amilies and moved to a new
world.
1 • A SONG FOR HERR KEPPLER
Let it really be Papa, Anna wished desperately as
she tugged open the big front door. Let me be right.
She wanted to run down the steps but they were uneven and she had fallen headlong down them before
now. That was no way to meet Papa, landing at his
feet upside down and with a fresh batch of bruises.
The moment she was on flat ground, however, she ran.
Then she was close enough to be sure-and she was
right.
"Papa, Papal" she cried in delight, flinging her arms
around his middle and hugging him. The next instant
she was trying to get away. She, Anna, never grabbed
1
"Don't, Anna," Papa warned. "It'll come undone."
He was too late. Anna looked down in dismay at the
crumpled ribbon in her fist. So often Mama begged
her to leave her hair alone. So often she forgot.
"Maybe I can fix it," Papa said. "I can try anyway."
Anna turned her back and held the ribbon up over
her shoulder to him. Awk'Wardlyhe bundled together
the loose hair into one strand. Her mother was right
about it being difficult.Wisps of it kept slipping away
from him. But at last, while Anna clutched the end,
he tied a lopsided bow around the middle. He frowned
at it. He had made no attempt to rebraid it and it
looked all wrong. Anna knew how it looked as well as
he did, but she told herself she did not care. Even
when it was newly done by Mama herself, it never
looked just right, like Gretchen's smooth, gleaming
thick braids.
"About school, Papa,".she reminded him, turning
around.
Papa forgot her hair too.
"What happened?"
For one instant, Anna hesitated. It wasreally Gretchen's story, not hers. But Gretchen and the rest so
often had something to tell. There was never anything
she, Anna, could say about her troubled days in Frau
Schmidt's class. Anyway, it was Gretchen's own fault
she hadn't been watching out for Papa!
"We were all at Assembly," Anna plunged in. "We
~ways have Assembly before we start classesand we
sing then. We get to choose a couple of the songs.The
people like that, not right out on the street where anyone could see. But Papa had dropped his briefcase and
was hugging her back so hard you could tell he would
not mind if all the world were watching.
"Stop, stop! You're breaking my bones," Anna
gasped at last.
Laughing, he let go of her. At once she became very
busy picking up the briefcase, dusting it off with part
of her skirt and giving it back to him. She kept her
head bent so he would not catch her joy at:being the
first to meet him, at the wonderful hug, at everything.
But Papa guessed. He reached down and captured one
of her hands and swung it in his as they started for the
house.
"Where are the others?" he asked.
Anna scowled. Why were the older four always so
important? And yet of course he would wonder. She
could not remember ever before having been the only
one to meet him. Always Gretchen or Rudi, Fritz or
Frieda, or even all four, had been there too.
"They're busy fighting about what happened in
school today," she explained. "But I sat on the windowsill and watched until I saw you coming."
She was dragging her feet now. She so wanted him
to herself a few moments longer.
"What happened in school?" he asked. He let go
of her hand, and they both stopped w.alkingwhile he
waited to hear. Without thinking about it, Anna
reached up and jerked on one of her thin braids. It
was a habit she had when she was worried.
·-
2
3
-~
older children, that is. This morning it was Gretchen's
tum and she asked for 'Die Gedanken sind frei.' The
whole schoolknows it except for the younger children.
I'm the only one in my classwho knows it all."
Anna paused, proud of her knowledge and remembering the day Papa had taught her the song, when
she was only five years old. He had explained the
proud words until she understood them and then they
had marched along together, singing it. Die Gedanken
sind frei. It meant "thoughts are free."
"So what happened?" Papa said again.
"Well, Herr Keppler ... You know, Papa, he's
the new Headmaster the government sent after Herr
Jakobsohn left."
Papa nodded, and his face darkened. He and Herr
Jakobsohn had been friends. They had played chess
together. But the Jakobsohns liad gone to America
three weeks ago.
"Herr Keppler just said, 'We will not sing that
song in this school again.' Fraulein Braun had already
started to play the beginning to get us started and
nobody knew what to do. Gretchen was still standing
up and she went all red and said right out loud, 'Why?'
That was brave of her, Papa. Everybody is frightened
of Herr Keppler. When Rudi sayshe isn't, he's lying."
"What answer did Herr Keppler give Gretchen?"
Papa said.
He sounded angry, almost as though he already
knew.
"He didn't answer her at all," Anna said. She was
still surprised as she thought back. "I mean, he didn't
give any reason. He just looked at her and said, 'Sit
down.'" The command came sharplyfrom Anna's lips
as she imitated the Headmaster.
"Rudi says maybe Herr Keppler just doesn't like
that song and that it didn't mean anything special. . . .'' Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
"What did you sing instead?" Papa asked, beginning, once again, to move slowlytoward the house. As
they walked, he looked not at her but at the ground.
"'Deutschland, Deutschland iiber alles?"
They were at the steps now. Their time alone was
almost over. Anna's shoulders drooped.
Then all at once, Papa threw back his head, stood
still, and started to sing.
Die Gedanken sind frei,
My thoughts freely flower.
Die Gedanken sind frei,
My thoughts give me power.
No scholar can map them.
No hunter can trap them.
No man can deny
Die Gedanken sindfrei.
How could Herr Keppler not like words like that?
Or the tune, either? It rang out in the quiet street.
Anna joined in the second verse.She sang with all her
might, just the way Papa did, as if every phrase mattered.
So I think as I please
And this gives me pleasure;
My conscience decrees
This right I must treasure;
At that, Anna heard them coming-Rudi leaping
down the stairs two at a time, Gretchen hurrying after
him, the twins tumbling behind the older two. The
door burst open. The four of them lookedat their sister
and their father. Then, all together, they were singing too.
My thoughts will not cater
To duke or dictator,
My thoughts freely fiy.
Die Gedanken sind frei.
"Papa, did Anna tell you . . ·. ?" Gretchen cut in.
But Papa was leading the way in, still singing. They
followed him as though he were the Pied Piper of
Hamelin town, and all of them joined in the wonderful last verse.
And if tyrants take me
And throw me in prison,
My thoughts will burst free,
Like blossoms in season.
Foundations will crumble.
The structure will tumble.
And free men will cry,
"Die Gedanken sind freil"
6
They finished the song in the downstairshall. Mama
put her head over the stairwell and glared down at
them.
"Ernst, have you lost your mind?" she demanded.
"Little Trudi Grossman had been sick all day and
Minna has just got her to sleep. What were you thinking of anyway, making such a racket?"
They had climbed up to her by that time. Papa
caught her around the waist and kissedher so that she
blushed. He waslaughing now, though sorry too about
perhaps disturbing the baby. But no wakening wail
came from the downstairs apartment, so maybe that
was all right.
"One last fling, Klara," he told her. "One song for
Herr Keppler, who cannot keep me from singing with
my own children yet."
"What nonsense!" Mama scoffed,freeing herself.
"Anna did tell you!" Gretchen cried.
Anna looked at her feet. But she was still glad she
had been the one to let Papa know all about it.
"Yes. Anna told me." Papa's voice was heavy and
tired suddenly. The fun was over.
"But it doesn't mean anything, Papa, does it?" Rudi
asked.Earlier he had been certain, but now he sounded
shaken.
"I tell you it does." Gretchen, usually so calm, was
near tears. "It wasn't just the wayhe spoke to me. You
should have seen the look he gave Fraulein Braun.
Her hands started to shake. I saw.I thought she wasn't
7
going to be able to play our national anthem."
"And I keep trying and trying to tell you all that
that's not the worst thing that happened today," Fritz
burst out. "Well, I guess it didn't happen today exactly-but
Max Hoffman's father has disappeared!
Vanished! He's been gone for three days."
He waited for them to gasp at this news. To Fritz,
it was exciting but not real. He had not spoken to Max
himself. Another boy had told him. Anna, though,
had talked to Gerda, Max's sister. She stood there
remembering Gerda's face, swollen from crying.
"Which Hoffmans are you talking about?" Mama
said, on her way back to the stove. "Nobody we know
would do a thing like that to his family. It's a disgrace."
"But he didn't ... " Anna started, forgetting, this
once, that she was the younges~, remembering only
Gerda's wounded eyes. "I mean, it wasn't like that.
Gerda told me."
"Oh, Anna Solden, look at your hair I" Mama inter-
rupted.
Her mind still on Gerda, Anna paid no attention.
She had to make them see, make them understand.
Then maybe Papa could help somehow.
"The Hoffmans had supper waiting. On the table
even. And they waited and waited and Herr Hoffman
just didn't come. And when Frau Hoffmanwent to the
police, they would hardly even listen, Gerda said.
They told her to go on home and keep quiet about it."
Papa was really listening to her. He looked as
8
troubled as she felt. But Mama laughed.
"The police know these things happen," she said.
"I don't supposeshe's the first wife that's gone to them
looking for a runaway husband. But really, what could
have happened to him? He could come home if he
wanted to-unless he had an accident or a heart attack
or something. I suppose she checked the hospitals?"
"I guess so," Anna mumbled.
She knew so little, really.
"He has been gone three days,"she added.
"I already said that," Fritz said.
"It's no accident then," Mama dismissedthe whole
thing. She put down the steamingdish she washolding.
"Come on now. Forget Herr Hoffman while the
food is good and hot," she told her family. "He's probably having a fine supper himself somewhere. Leave
that bow alone, Anna. I'll fix it later."
Papa sat down in his big chair. The others took
their places. All heads were bowed for the blessing.
Then, just when they thought their father had finished,
he added, "And, dear Father God, have mercy on the
Hoffman family tonight and on this troubled country
and ... on all children, in Jesus' name, Amen."
They raised their heads and stared at him.
Mama was the one to speak.
t
"Ernst, what is this that you are talking aDt>ut?
There have been many people out of work, it is true,
and everything has been expensive. But the troubled
times are ending. Everyone knows that."
9
Anna looked at her father. He would know. He
would set her fears at rest at last. What must it be like
to sit at the window and watch for Papa and never
see him come?The thought had haunted her all day.
Papa picked up his fork slowly.
"The troubled times ... " he said. "I think they
are just beginning. We are seeing only a faint shadow
of the darkness that threatens us."
"Ernst!" Mama cried, horrified at his words and the
sorrow in his face and understanding little more than
Anna did.
"Never mind now, Klara," Papa said. "This is not
the time to talk."
But Anna was shaken to the core. Her father was
afraid. He could not comfort her after all. And she
had not even told him everything,
"Frau Hoffman wanted Gerda to ask Herr Keppler
for help," she said now. "But Max wouldn't go to him
and Gerda doesn't want to either. Papa, what should
they do?"
"Herr Keppler will not help," Papa .said, the same
darkness in his voice that she had seen on his face
earlier. Then he smiled at her. It was a smile of love,
but with no hope in it.
"I will go and talk to Frau Hoffman and see if I can
do anything," he promised.
He was still afraid though. Anna did not know how
she knew. Maybe because she was so often frightened
herself. If only she could comfort him somehow!
10
She took a mouthful while she thought hard. Then
an idea came. She was not sure whether it was a good
idea or not. Papa was eating now too. She reached out
quietly and touched his hand so that he looked at her
again. She did not want the others to hear. They might
laugh. Rudi often said she was crazy.
But Mama's cabbage rolls were too good to keep
waiting, no matter how serious life might be. Nobody
was paying any attention to her except her father.
" 'Thoughts are free,' Papa," Anna said softly.
Papa's head came up. He smiled right at her, a real
smile this time, and cupped his large hand around her
small one, giving it a good warm squeeze.
"No matter what I have to do, I'll keep it that way
for you, my Anna," he promised her.
Anna did not know what he meant. What could
he have to do? Did he mean talking to Frau Hoffman?
Or something else?
She could not answer herself but she did know that
she had said the right thing. Not Rudi or Gretchen or
Fritz or Frieda, but she, Annal Happily, she took
another bite.
11
2 • THE TROUBLED
TIMES
"Are you going to Gerda's tonight, Papa?" Anna
asked.
"Not tonight," Papa told her. He looked troubled.
"Tomorrow night I will go, Liebling. Maybe by then
Jr
everything will be all right."
Anna knew he was saying that because she was a
child. Papa himself did not believe things were going
to be all right. Anna prayed he was wrong.
The next morning Gerda was at school but she did
not speak to anyone. Anna stood near her when she
could do it without being too obvious. She almost
12
said, more than once, "Don't worry, Gerda. My father
is coming to your house tonight. He will find some
way to fix things. He will find out where your father
is."
But she remembered the look on Papa's face, as
though he knew more than he was saying.She did not
want Gerda to hope if there really was no hope.
Gerda did not seem to see Anna hovering close to
her. All day long her face looked as if it were behind
shutters.
"Pay attention, Gerda," Frau Schmidt snapped.
There was a second's silence. Then Gerda's voice
said mechanically, "'Yes, Frau Schmidt."
That night, as soon as the Soldens were finished
eating, Papa went over to the Hoffman house.
"Maybe it is dangerous, Ernst," Mama said, just as
he was leaving.
"Maybe I can help," he said and went.
He was home much too soon. When he opened the
door, Anna whirled around, hoping, hoping that she
would see in his face that Herr Hoffman had come
home safely.
"They've left Frankfurt," he said instead. "If only
I had gone earlier . . . but I don't suppose it would
have made any difference."
The next day in school,Anna Solden sat still listening to the buzz of rumors.
"Herr Hoffman took all their money with him."
"They went to her aunt in Rotterdam."
13
"I heard they went to Berlin."
"You're both crazy. Johann Mitter told me himself
that they'd gone to England."
There was a subdued outburst of laughter at that.
Johann could always be counted on for a wild story.
"He's lying, same as always," Else Kronen scoffed.
"My big brother was talking to the Hoffmans' neighbors and Frau Hoffman left a letter with them to give
to Herr Hoffman if he shows up there looking for
them. She wouldn't even tell the neighbors where
they were going. But you know how Gerda talked
about that farm in Austria where they used to go in
the summers. . . ."
I'm not saying anything, Gerda, Anna thought. I'm
still your friend.
She sat very still waiting for the Assembly. It had
been so wonderful to have Gerda single her out to
confide in. Of course, there had been nobody else
there at first and maybe Gerda had felt safe talking
to her because nobody else did. Not often anyway.
She was too stupid.
It had started on the very first day, long ago now,
when Anna had begun her struggle with the alphabet.
To her, many of the letters looked the same. If the
letters had stayed still on the page it might have been
easier to tell them apart, but when Anna peered at
them, they jiggled. She hoped someone else would
say something about this. But nobody did, and Anna
was afraid to mention it herself. So she held the book
closer and closer, trying to make the letters behave.
14
.. ·-------~---.--~--· ~-----f~,-----------·
----- --
,-
.•..
Then Frau Schmidt had called her to the front to
take her turn reciting what she had learned. The
teacher used a pointer to spear letters on the blackboard.
"What is this, Anna?" she asked.
Anna did not know. She could not even see it
clearly. She stood tongue-tied with shame and didn't
make a sound.
"Aren't you Anna Solden?" the teacher asked.
Anna nodded, still unable to speak.
"The sister of Rudolf and Gretchen and the twins?"
Anna nodded again. Her cheeks burned.
"Stand up straight, child, and answer properly. You
should say, 'Yes,Frau Schmidt.'"
SomehowAnna straightened.
"Yes, Frau Schmidt," she whispered.
The teacher dicked her tongue against her teeth
impatiently.
"Not in a mumble. Speak out," she commanded.
She waited. Anna was trembling by that time. She
wondered·if she might be going to fall down in front
of the whole class.She did not fall.
"Yes, Frau Schmidt," she repeated, praying it was
all right.
"Again," rapped out the teacher.
"Yes, Frau Schmidt," Anna said.
"Now let me see if you can name this letter yet,"
Frau Schmidt said.
Anna could not name the letter. She guessed desperately but her guesseswere wrong.
15
"Oh, go and sit down," the teacher said at last. She
watched Anna stumble back to her desk. Then she
added mockingly, "I understand your father is an
English master in one of the exclusive schools. Perhaps he can teach you something I"
The classlaughed. Perhaps they were afraid not to,
but Anna did not think of that. She still remembered
their laughter.
That had been over a year before. Anna had not yet
learned to read. Papa did try to help but he taught
English to high-schoolboys. He could not figure out
what was wrong between Anna and the alphabet. But
if she could not read, she now could stand up straight.
She no longer trembled. She stood stiffiy,answered
clearly,and hated Frau Schmidt with her whole heart.
And she hated reading too.. She did not care that
she could not do it. She did not want to do it. Why
should she? Papa would read to her and Papa loved
her just the same,whether she could read or not. She
would never read and she would never be friends with
the children who laughed at her.
Still, deep inside, it did hurt her that Gerda had not
even said good-bye.She had ached so for Gerda in her
alonenessand fear. And not once did she, Anna, join
in the cruel gossip about where Herr Hoffman
might be.
"He's run awaywith an actress,Johann Mitter says,"
was one of the stories.
Anna spoke right out against that one.
16
"He did not," she said.
The others pelted questions at her, really seeing her
for once.
"How do you know?"
"Where is he then?"
"Who told you?'!
Anna stared back at them defiantly but silently. She
had no proof. She just knew. Gerda's father wouldn't.
"Oh, she doesn't know anything," Olga Muller dismissed her. "As usual," she added.
They turned away in disgust.
But Anna was sure she was right. Something must
have gone terribly wrong to keep Herr Hoffman from
coming home. It was part of the "troubled times"
Papa had spoken about.
"Anna, you cannot afford to sit and dream," Frau
Schmidt snapped. "Not if you want to finish the
Primer."
"Yes, Frau Schmidt," she said automatically.
She opened the book she could not read and prepared for another day at school.
A week later, she wakened in the night to hear
Mama shouting.
"Leave Germany! Ernst! How could we?"
Papa's voice rumbled some reply. Anna shook her
head, still foggy with sleep, and listened harder.
"But this is our home!" Mama was more upset than
Anna had ever heard her. "We've lived here all our
lives.Ernst, I was born not three blocksfrom this very
17
house. Our friends are here. What about your sister?"
Papa spoke again but though Anna strained her
ears, she could only catch occasional words and
phrases.
". . . must be brave . . . think of the Hoffmans
. . . can •t you un derstan d . . ."
He said something about June too. Anna remembered how angry he had been then over some new law.
Something about Jews not working for the government ...
Oh, she couldn't remember although she
could see him pacing up and down, his eyes flashing.
She had not known he could get that angry.
Mama was still arguing.
"But where would we go? Ernst, you are not thinking. What of the children's schooling? Your darling
Anna is failing now."
The listening child smiled in-the darkness. What if
she were failing? Even Mama knew she was Papa's
"darling Anna."
"What will happen to her if she is uprooted? And
Rudi will probably be Head Boy next term. Anyway
we don't have enough money."
At last Papa's voice came strongly through the wall.
"I know all this as well as you do, Klara. But I know
much more. Don't you understand that if I were not
working in a private school, I would be out of work
right now? How long will the new regime overlook
the staff at private schools? Remember that Tania's
husband is Jewish."
18
"But what does your sister's husband have to do
with us?" Beneath her anger, Mama sounded bewildered.
"Oh, Klara, think. Think of the Hofhnans. What
happened to him I don't dare guess. Think of Nathan
Jakobsohn. Think of the Wechslers. And I heard today that Aaron Singer has been dismissed."
"Ernst, that can't be true. Dr. Singer made that
company famous."
"Everyone knows that. But he was dismissed nevertheless. No reasons given. He is going to try to get out
of Germany. Soon, I am certain, it will be harder to
leave. It is not just the Jews who are in danger, Klara.
Anyone who disagrees, anyone who speaks up too
loudly ... "
There was a tense silence. Anna chewed on her fist.
"But your brother Karl is your only relative not in
Germany-and he's in Canada!" Mama wailed.
Anna knew that to Mama, Canada was faraway and
foreign. Mama had no use for anything "foreign."
Papa yawned suddenly, so widely Anna heard his
jaws crack.
"Enough. I'm tired out, Klara. But we must think.
If anything happens, we will need to be ready. I wish
to God I were wrong about the whole thing."
"I am sure you are wrong," Mama said.
Anna heard her turn over. The bed squeaked. Then
Papa added, so softly that Anna nearly missed it, "I
made a promise to Anna which I must keep."
19
"Made what promise to Anna? That you would take
us all away from our home?"
"No, not that," Papa said wearily.
Anna had her ear against the wall now, so that she
could hear even though his voice dropped.
"I told her she would grow up where thoughts are
free," he said.
Had he promised her that? Oh, yes. The song Herr
Keppler would not sing. But Mama was storming
agam.
"So we must all change our lives for your Annal
Why, she is the one of all the children who most needs
to stay right here. She is only beginning to learn now.
Frau Schmidt says she is stubborn . . . but whatever
is wrong, making her start all over again in a new
place would be the worst thing in the world for her!"
Anna shuddered. This time, Mama was right. Frau
Schmidt was terrible, but some stranger . . . I
Please, Papa, she begged him silently, let us stay
here.
Then, incredibly, Klara Solden laughed, an everyday, teasing, comfortable laugh.
"Ernst, you have forgotten how unimportant we
are," she said, making nonsense out of all they had
been saying. "Why, what could happen to us? Maybe
Herr Hoffman's wife was a nag. Maybe Dr. Singer
presumed somehow or is getting too old. But we are
nobody. Oh, my feet are cold. Put yours over here."
"Klara, Klara," Papa moaned, but his voice had a
20
faint note of laughter in it too, "you are impossible."
Their voices sank to a murmur. Anna slid back
down in bed not knowing whether to worry or not.
At last she drifted back into sleep.
She wakened once before morning. There was no
sound from her parents' room. For an instant, she was
frightened all over again. Then she thought of Mama's
cold feet and smiledas she curled up snugly under her
own warm covers.
Mama won't let Papa do anything terrible, she
thought.
At breakfast everything was the way it had always
been. Anna was relieved, though somehow slightly
disappointed too. Then at supper Papa made an announcement. It was nothing Anna had expected. But
it was terrible enough.
"This family is going to learn to speak English," he
said.
His wife and children stared at him. He smiled in
return but there was something in that smile which
nobody liked.
"We will start right now," he went on, proving
their worst fears correct. "From now on, every night,
we will speaknothing but Englishat our evening meal.
All of you children, except Anna, have studied some
Englishat school,soyou have made a start already," he
encouraged them.
"I know no English," Mama said, her face hard.
"You will learn, Klara," Papa said quietly. "We will
21
I11;
begin right now. Listen carefully. Rudi, will you pass
me the salt, please?"
The English words sounded like gibberish to Anna.
Rudi looked at the pepper, the salt, the mustard. His
hand went out slowly. It hovered. Then, uncertainly,
it dropped. Luck was with him, He did hand his father
the salt.
"Thank you, son," Papa said, taking it.
Rudi's worried look vanished instantly. He glanced
around at the others to be sure they had not missed
his cleverness. Everyone looked suitably impressed.
But Papa had only started.
"How was school today, Gretchen?" he wanted to
know.
Any other time it would have been fun to watch
Gretchen get so flustered.
"How . . . how . . . I know·not," she stammered.
"It was good, Papa," Rudi put in quickly, brilliantly.
But Gretchen had recovered. She shot her brother
a nasty look.
"School was fine, Papa," she said.
Was one right and the other wrong? Anna did not
have any idea. It would be wonderful if Rudi had
made a mistake already. But suppose Papa turned on
her, Anna, next?
This is one million times worse than that alphabet,
Anna thought dismally. She tried to sit lower in her
chair so that Papa would not see her.
For him it was easy, of course. He actually loved
English. He had gone to college in a place called
Cambridge. Anna had seen pictures of the river there,
of great leaning trees and of young men laughing into
the camera. Papa had lots of English books and he
read them for fun. He even got English magazinesin
the mail and he taught English all day long to the boys
at Saint Sebastian's.
With a little practice, Rudi and Gretchen did surprisingly well. But it wasn't all just due to their brilliance, as Rudi claimed. He had been learning English
in school for four years now and Gretchen for three.
The twins had only had one year of it and they made
hundreds of mistakes.Mama and Anna were the only
two who knew nothing .at all about it.
At first they got awaywith speakingGerman to each
other in spite of Papa. In those days,there was a closeness between them which Anna had not known since
she wasa baby. She knew that then Mama had cuddled
her and had sung to her. There were pictures of her
on Mama's knee and Mama's smile at her was beautiful. Anna loved those pictures. But she could not remember, or only barely, a time when she was not a
disappointment to her mother.
Even before shehad gone offto school,it had started.
Anna couldn't run without tripping over some bump
in the uneven pavement. Anna could not skip. Anna
never could catch a ball unless it was rolled along the
ground to her. She could learn poems. Papa loved to
23
22
hear her· recite them. But Mama had no time for
poems. She wanted a daughter who could at least dust
furniture properly.
"Anna, look at all that dust I" she would cry when
Anna thought she had finished.
Anna would look and, although she saw no dust at
all, she would lower her head in shame.
But now things were different. The two of them
would sit and listen to Frieda working so hard to say,
"Thank you."
"Tank you, Papa," she would say.
"Put your tongue between your teeth, Frieda, like
this. Watch me. Th ... th ... ," Papa would
demonstrate.
Even Rudi had trouble with the "th" sound.
Then, right in the middle, Anna would whisper to
her mother that she wanted more milk. She whispered
in German, of course, and Mama answered "Ja, ja,
Liebling," and passed it at once. Papa would frown
but Anna would sip her milk and feel special and she
hardly even cared, much as she loved him. .
"My one· German child," Mama said fondly on
those first evenings.And Anna basked in the sunshine
of Mama's smile while it lasted.
Soonenough, she knew, Mama would want to teach
her to knit again. Or to sewlThat wasworse.Gretchen
and Frieda were so quick. But Anna simplycould not
seewhat Mama meant. She did not understand how, to
start with, Mama got the thread through the needle.
24
When Anna looked at the thin needle in her hand,
there was no hole there waiting.
More than once she had almost told Mama that. But
always, the next instant, Mama had slid the thread
through and was looking at her youngest child with
such exasperation that Anna did not know how to
explain.
In Mama's needle, there was a hole every time.
Maybe if she held .the material closer ...
"No, no, child," Mama said, "you'll strain your eyes
that way.Hold it like this in your lap."
Again her mother sounded so sure. Anna struggled
on and got nowhere. Before long, they all grew used
to her even though they never stopped trying to improve her.
"Let me, Anna," Gretchen would sigh, taking the
potholder from her. "How can you make such huge
crooked stitches?"
"Here, Anna. I'll fix it. Really, I cannot understand you. I was knitting socksfor my brothers when
I was seven."
That was Mama. Gloom closedover Anna. She shut
her mouth tight and did not let her hands shake. It
was like school and that alphabet. But she would not
care. She was Papa's pet even if she wasn't Mama's.
Everyone knew that, just as they knew that Mama
loved Rudi best, however she denied it.
But now, for a while at least, Anna was Mama's
one German child. Oh, Mama still frowned and shook
25
her head over her often but she sang her German songs
too, and both of them pretended there were no such
things as troubled times.
Anna fought not to remember Gerda, not to wonder
where she was and whether her father had ever found
them.
She did not waken again to hear her parents quarrelmg.
It was a good winter, a lovely spring. She took it for
granted that the storm had blown over, that eventually
Papa would even forget about the English lessons.
Then one morning early in June, 1934, a letter
came from Canada. It was not from Uncle Karl; it was
3 • AWKWARD ANNA
from his lawyer.
And overnight, Anna's sometimes happy, often unhappy, but always familiar world turned. upside down.
That morning on her way to breakfast, Anna met
Papa in the hall.
"What is wrong, little one?" Papa asked, seeing her
scowl.
Nothing new or different waswrong. It wasjust that
Anna was feeling ugly. She always felt ugly by the
time Mama had finished straining and twisting her
hair back into the two tight skimpy braids. She had
to sit to have this done, right in front of her mother's
mirror, and she could not miss seeing herself.
The rest of the family were so beautiful. Gretchen
and Rudi were tall and fair like Papa. Their hair did
27
26
not just shine; it was also well behaved. Their eyes
were bright blue. Their cheeks were pink. Not too
pink, but not just plain no-color like Anna's own.
Fritz and Frieda were Mama over again with their
black curls, their sparkling brown eyes and their lively
impish faces.
Then there was Anna, her forehead knobbly, her
hair wispy and dull,· her eyes blue but grayish and
small. Her ears and her nose were fine but there
was nothing special about them. And her mouth
looked ...
"Stubborn," Mama. would have said, or "sulky."
"Unhappy," Papa would have said.
Ugly, thought Anna crossly and, her braids done,
she thumped down off the chair, stalked out into the
hall and ran into Papa.
Anna did not tell him what was wrong because
already it was no longer true; nobody could feel ugly
with Papa. He reached out, pulled a flower from a vase
on the hall stand and stuck it behind his daughter's
ear. It dripped water from its stem down her back but
she laughed. Papa was so silly sometimes. Hastily, even
while she grinned at him, she replaced the flower,
hoping Mama would not notice.
"Well, how are you and Frau Schmidt getting
along?" Papa asked.
Anna's smile vanished.
"All right," she muttered.
Anna knew he was not fooled by this. He had
29
spoken with Frau Schmidt on Visitors' Day. But soon
it would be vacation time.
"Anna, my Anna, would you do a special favor for
me?'' her father asked suddenly.
Anna looked at him.
"Does it have anything to do with Frau Schmidt?"
He shook his head but his eyes twinkled. Anna did
not quite believe him. Even the nicest adults could
play .tricks sometimes.
"Not one thing to do with Frau Schmidt, I swear!"
Papa put his hand over his heart and looked solemnly
up to heaven.
"What is it then?" probed Anna, stalling.
"Promise me first and then I'll tell," he wheedled.
"Oh Anna, don't you trust your own Papa?"
Anna did not but she did love him more than anyone else in the entire world. She could not resist him.
"I promise then," she growled, in spite of herself.
"Now tell me what it is?"
"I want you to try to speak English," Papa said.
Anna stiffened. She felt betrayed. But he was smiling
at her again as though his words were not so dreadful.
"I do not think it will be quite so hard as you
imagine,'' he told her gently. "Remember. You are
the girl who learned all of 'Die Gedanken sind frei'
in only one afternoon."
"But that was Germani" protested Anna, knowing
she had already promised but still hoping he had left
her a loophole to wiggle through.
"But you were just five years old. Now you are
much, much older and much, much smarter . . . and
I suspect, though I might be wrong, that you already
know much more English than you are letting on."
How had he guessed?Anna felt the telltale flush
color her cheeks. She ducked her head so she would
not have to meet his amused eyes. It was perfectly
true. She had long since started storing away in her
mind some of the strange words, although she had
never yet dared speak them aloud. By now she could
astonish him, if she chose.Would she?
"Ernst! Annal You are going to be late for school,"
Mama called. "And there is a letter here for you from
Canada, Ernst, which looks important."
They went. The letter lay at Papa's place. He opened
it and read it. Then his hands clenched,half crumpling
the page.
"What is it?" Mama cried, hurrying to him.
Papa had to wait a moment. Anna saw him swallow.
"My brother Karl is dead,'' he said then. "He had
a heart attack. He has left me everything he owned."
There was a babble of voices.
"Oh, Papa, how awfult" said Gretchen, who remembered Uncle Karl from when she was a small girl
and he had visited Germany and stayed with them.
"Papa, are we going to be rich then?" That was
Rudi.
"Rich," Fritz echoedlonginglybut he stopped there.
Something in Papa's face silenced him.
31
30
"Poor Papa," Frieda chimed in, kicking Fritz.
It was then that Papa said the unbelievable thing.
He did not ask anyone. He just made a statement, a
flat hard statement of fact.
"No, Rudi, we will not be rich. Karl was only a
grocer with a small store, and Germany is not the
only country which has been suffering from a depression. But this is our chance. We will go to Canada."
"Canada!"
In every voice there was the same feeling Anna had
heard in Mama's months before. Canada was not a
place to go to; Canada was a geography lesson.
"Mr. Menzies suggests we come in September."
Papa went on as though he heard no outcry.
"Who is Mr.· Menzies? What does he know about
what we do?" Mama's words cut through the air as
shrilly as a whistle.
"He's Karl's lawyer. I'd written to Karl before,
asking what our chances would be in Canada. He
offered to take us in but l wanted my own business.
He said there was no place for a German English
teacher. But now I shall be a grocer. I did not want
Karl's charity but it seemshe has given it to me after
,,
all.
Papa got up, letter in hand, and strode out of the
room. There were tears on his cheeks.Anna sawthem.
She could not move. She could not think. Mama,
though, started after him. Then, at the last minute,
she saw the clock, gasped and stopped to hustle them
off to school,refusing to answerany of the questions.
"Gol GOI" she almost screamed at them. "As
though things aren't bad enough with this in your
father's head!"
Suddenly, she caught sight of Anna, who still had
not stirred from her chair. She looked at her hardand it was not the warm look which claimed Anna as
her "one German child." Anna shrank back, not
understanding, not till her mother stormed, "Why is
Germany not good enough for you? A land where
thoughts are free! Bahl Oh, it is too much to bear.
He cannot mean it."
She whirled away then and left them without her
"Good-bye."As Anna went out, dosing the door behind herself, she could hear Mama right through the
walls.
"Ernst, Ernst, I will not go. I tell you I will not gol"
And then, pausing, she heard Papa, not so loudly,
but in a voice like iron.
"We are all going, Klara. Whether you understand
or not, whether you come willingly or not, we are
going. You must start to get ready."
At school that day, Anna did not notice Frau
Schmidt's gibes. She did not care what they sang in
Assembly. She walked right past Herr Keppler in
the hall, almost touching him, and she did not even
notice.
They, her family, were going to Canada to live.
And she had promised to try to speak English. Did
everyone in Canada speak English?
Questions without answers hammered inside her
33
32
skull till she felt dizzy and sick. At last it was time to
go home.
But home was not a good place to be either. There
was no escape at home.
When Papa said they were going, he meant it. Rudi
tried arguing, man to man. Papa listened.
"So you see, Papa, we can't go," Rudi finished.
"We are going, Rudi," his father said and went on
making the arrangements.
Gretchen cried because she would have to leave her
friend Maria.
"I've never had a friend like Maria, Papa," she
sobbed. Gretchen, who was always so grown-up and
calm.
Papa held her on his knee though she was much too
big. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her tears wet
his shirt collar and wilted it.
"You'll find another friend, my Gretel," Papa said.
Gretchen sprang away from him and went to howl
on her bed.
Papa bought their tickets. They were going by
steamship. It should have been exciting. To Fritz
and Frieda it was. They began to brag.
But Papa even put a stop to that, the moment he
found out about it.
"I don't want you talking about the fact that we are
going," he told the whole family.
"If you'd only explain, Papa," Rudi answered, "then
we'd know what to say. People ask us questions, you
know. Herr Keppler himself was asking me this mom-
ing, but then he hadn't time to stay and listen. He
will ask again."
"Oh, poor Rudi," Frieda breathed.
Rudi tossed his head.
"He doesn't scare me," he maintained.
"He should," Papa said in a low voice. But before
they could ask what he meant this time, he gave his
instructions in so decided a way that the discussion
'ended.
"You may tell people your uncle has died and we
have been left a business in Canada. Say that I have to
go and look after it. Say we have all decided to go.
You don't need to say more than that. I do not want
you to talk about it any more than you have to. If
Herr Keppler does ask again, be careful and remember-what I am telling you is important. It is not safe
to say too much."
Papa sounded so serious. The children knew there
was much he was not telling them. Mama thought he
was wrong, but even Rudi believed Papa. He was
too unhappy himself to be doing it for some foolish
reason. He even tried to get his sister Tania and her
husband to come too. They agreed the Soldens should
go, but did not want to go themselves.
"We have no children to think of, Ernst," Uncle
Tobias said gravely. "Germany is our country, mine
as much as yours. I would not desert it now.''
"You may soon be left with no choice, Tobias,"
Papa said, deeply troubled.
"We know that," Aunt Tania said quietly. "But if
all people of reason Hee, who will speak the truth?"
Papa was silenced by that. That was when Anna
knew he did not want to go either, that he was going
because of his promise to her and because of his love
for all of them-Rudi,
Gretchen, the twins, even
Mama who was still fighting against him.
Poor Papal
English! She could talk English for him. That might
cheer him. She had been meaning to try for days but
she Wasafraid. They would laugh. Still, she could try.
This very night, she would.
Supper was nearly ready. Rudi was sitting at the
big round table, his fair head bent over the GermanEnglish dictionary. He was teaching them new words
while they worked. The others stepped around him
patiently. They were used to hiin finding an excuse
to sit down when it was time to work. Mama was tightlipped and silent as he read, but the rest knew by
now that they were really going to need this new language so they were all listening.
"Awful" had been the last word. Anna repeated it
silently, trying to keep hold of it.
Rudi read on down the page.
"'Awkward.' What a queer word," he commented.
"It means 'clumsy.' "
Somehow-Anna never knew how-the plate of
sausages she was putting on the table chose that moment. to slip through her fingers and shatter on the
floor right by Rudi's feet.
He yelped as though she had fired off a cannon at
36
him. Then he saw it was only Anna and he felt foolish.
Covering up quickly, he turned on her.
"Awkward," he said loudly. "That'll be easy to
remember. We'll only need to think of you. Awkward
Annal''
Anna, on her knees picking up the mess, did not
look up. If nobody answered him back, he might leave
it at that. But Frieda, not being the one in danger,
was not so careful.
"You broke a cup yourself just last week, Rudi,"
she cried. "How can you be so mean! Don't you dare
call her that."
Rudi dared anything. He disliked being reminded
of his own mistakes. And no eleven-year-old girl was
going to order him around and· get away with it.
"But think how it will help us with our English,
dear Frieda," he said, his voice smooth as cream.
Anna- felt cold.
He said no more then. Instead, he buried his nose
in the dictionary again. By the time the meal was
ready, he had found names for-the other three as well.
Fearful Frieda came first. Frieda tossed her head in
scorn at that. Then Fierce Fritz. Fritz grinned after
he had checked to see what it meant. Glorious Gretchen was third. (Rudi had had to grab that one at the
last minute because Mama said it was time to wash his
hands and eat.) Gretchen just laughed.
Later, however, she did some looking on her own
and at breakfast she came back at him with, "Would
you like some more chocolate, Rude Rudi?"
Even Rudi grinned and the nicknames were
dropped-except for Anna's. She knew herself why it
stuck. Fritz put it into words when she fell headlong
over a footstoola couple of days later.
"There goesAwkwardAnna," he commented. Then
he looked ashamed. "It's just that it fits her so," he
excused himself to Papa.
Soon it was accepted by them all. They said it with
a shake of their heads. They even said it fondly. But
they said it. Rudi said it most often; he guessed how
much it hurt. Only Papa never used it; he guessedtoo.
Anna could not win with Rudi. She had learned
that when she was still little more than a baby.
'Now she no longer wanted to amaze Papa with her
knowledge of English. English was tied to that awful
word which followedher everywhere:
Awkward. Awkward.
How she hated it! How she believed it was true!
In spite of herself, she went on learning new words
as the weeks passed. Mama, suddenly and to everyone's astonishment, gave in and began to speak the
new language along with the rest. No longer was
Anna special in her silence. Now it angered her
mother.
"It is time to stop this stubbornness, Anna," she
said. "I am old but I am learning. We must do what
we must do." Tears came to her eyes as she spoke.
Anna turned away. Mama would never understand.
39
38
And Anna need not feel guilty about making her
mother cry. Mama cried every day now. She cried as
she packed.
"You cannot take everything with you, Klara,"
Papa told her, and he made her give Aunt Tania the
soup tureen.
Anna thought that was silly. Crying over a soup
tureen. It was uglier than she was, even, with its silly
little cupids holding up the handle and its curly feet
and its big awkwardness.
That word againl
"I've had it since I was a bride," Mama wept, and
Aunt Tania wept with her.
After that, Papa had to give in about the mantel
clock which chimed every quarter hour. It had belonged to Mama's mother. Papa knew when he was
beaten. Anna was glad this time. ·Sheloved the clock's
musical chime. Lying in bed listening to it was one
of the first things she remembered.
The last day of school came.
"Well, Anna, so you are leaving us," Frau Schmidt
said. She did not sound sorry. "I hope you will work
hard for your new teacher."
Her voice said she doubted it. Anna said only, "Yes,
Frau Schmidt."
But as she was going down the hall carrying her
things, another voice stopped her.
"Anna," said Fraulein Braun, catching up to her,
"I hope you weren't going without saying good-bye."
40
Anna looked at her blankly. Fraulein Braun taught
music, and Anna liked music. But she had not
imagined the music teacher had noticed her.
"I'Il miss you," Fraulein Braun said gently. "You
have a very nice voice, Anna, and you sing as though
you meant the words."
"I ...
Thank you," Anna stammered. "Good-bye,
Fraulein."
For one instant, she was sorry to be leaving school
behind.
Then finally it was time. They were going tomorrow,
away from their home, to a land where people spoke
English.
Anna had made a vow never, ever to speak it, no
matter what she had promised Papa. But how was she
going to be able to keep that vow in Canada?
Everything was packed. They sat on boxes to eat
their last meal in Frankfurt.
"It feels lonely here," Frieda whispered, her eyes
huge.
Papa laughed all at once. It was as though he had
been afraid to laugh for a long time, but now, suddenly, his fear was vanishing. He could see where he
was taking them and it was a fine, safe place.
"Let's not be lonely," he rallied them. "Why, we
all have each other. We can make a fresh start together,
we Soldens. We just need some courage. What's the
bravest song you know?"
41
It was Gretchen who said it, not Anna .
••'Die Gedanken sind frei,' Papa," she cried.
Anna felt much braver as their voices chased back
the shadows and filled the emptiness with joyous sound.
Die Gedanken sind frei,
My thoughts freely fl,ower.
Die Gedanken sind frei,
My thoughts give me power.
No scholar can map them.
No hunter can trap them ..
Suddenly, her voice faltered and broke off. Nobody
else had seen, but Mama was crying again. Her cheeks
were wet with tears. As the others swept on into the
wonderful second verse and the triumphant finish,
Anna once more felt alone and afraid. Then she saw
her father smile at her mother and she looked at Mama
again,
The tears were still there but Mama was singing as
bravely as anyone.
4 • "PAPA IS WRONG!"
The first day out at sea, everyone but Anna was sick.
Papa, looking pale and refusing to eat, did manage to
stay on his feet and go with his youngest child to dinner in the grand dining salon. But the rest, even Rudi,
lay groaning in their bunks.
Anna could not understand it. She herself felt fine.
Better than fine. Wonderful! She loved keeping her
balance while the floor rocked beneath her feet. On
land she was always tripping and stumbling, but here,
when the ship rolled, she let her body sway 'with it,
shifting her weight to match its rhythm. She never
had to catch hold of something to steady herself. On
43
42
her own two feet she was steadier than anyone, even
Papa. If only the others were not too sick to notice!
She loved the giant thrum of the ship's engine too
and the different feeling everywhere. Maybe she was
a new, a different Anna. In the dining room, ordering
her dinner from a huge menu she could not read, she
sat up like a queen and she felt new and powerful in
spite of the stupid menu.
"Have something with me, Papa," she coaxed.
Papa smiled at her open happiness but he shook
his head at the mere mention of food. Anna ate
quickly, guessing rightly that if he had to face her beef
dinner for long, he also might desert her. It was too
bad. Here they were alone together, and yet it was
spoiled. Now her father had actually shut his eyes!
Suddenly, she had an inspiration. She had still not
started to use English, although as they drew nearer
and nearer to Canada, she knew she could not put it off
much longer. Why not try now? It was the perfect
moment, with only Papa here to listen and be delighted and not laugh if she made a mistake.
She thought furiously. She could ask, "When will
we get to Canada?"
No. He would know she already knew the answer.
Something else, something clever....
"Are you finished, Anna?" her father said, seeing
she had stopped eating and was staring into space. He
pushed his chair back a little. "I'd like to see how your
mother is."
44
Anna knew exactly how Mama was. She was
doubled up in a ball and she did not want to be
spoken to. When Mama had a headache at home,
Gretchen usually fussed over her, bringing her drinks
of water, turning her pillow, pulling down the shade.
But now Gretchen herself was ill. Anna, suddenly important but shy about it, had asked in a small, selfconscious voice, "Mama, would you like some water?"
Mama had not even turned her head. "No, no.
Leave me in peace," she had moaned. Then she had
added, "And speak English, Anna."
Now Papa was waiting for her to come. "Anna, did
you hear me?" he asked when she did not move.
The excitement which had been blossoming inside
his daughter closed up as tightly as a flower when darkness nears.. Anna pushed back her own chair and
stood up.
"I am finished," she said in curt German.
"Being sick is so hard for them," her father commented as he led the way through a maze of tables.
The words were in English. Papa hardly ever spoke
German now.
He must know that I understand, Anna thought
as she followed him down tile passageway.
Yet only that once, weeks before, had he asked her
to try to speak English. And she had promised she
would. She could not remember ever before having
promised Papa anything and then breaking her word.
45
Why didn't he say something, remind her, even scold
her?
He knows that I remember, thought Anna. But he
guesses that I am afraid.
Saying the very first words aloud, that was what she
could not seem to manage. She had tried, but every
time they stuck in her throat. She was sure that when
she did speak, her English would come out twisted
and sounding ridiculous. Mama made terrible mistakes all the time. The family tried not to laugh at her,
but sometimes they could not help it. Rudi would be
merciless when Anna's turn came.
So she made up English sentences inside her head
and even whispered them under her breath sometimes
when she was alone, but when anybody was listening,
she continued to talk only German.
The next morning the sun shone, the sea was calm,
and the Soldens recovered. After breakfast the five
children set out to explore the ship. Papa frowned as
he watched them go. He did not like the way Anna
trailed along behind, not quite one with the rest.
Were the older ones unkind to her?
He settled down in his deck chair and opened a book.
Klara, stretched out next to him, was already half
asleep in the sunshine.
She is coming around at last, he thought with relief.
That will make things easier for Anna.
"What's the trouble, Ernst?" she asked lazily.
"Nothing," he told her. Then, in spite of himself,
he added, "It was just Anna. The rest didn't seem to
want her."
Klara Solden'seyesflashedopen.
"And why should they want her?" she challenged.
"She's so touchy these days.·She's .not making any
effort to adjust. . . . She can't hear me, can she?" Her
face was suddenly anxious as she pushed herself up
on one elbow and looked around.
"No, no. They've gone," her husband reassured her.
He smiled as she lay back and let her eyes close
again. But a moment later, he put down his book and
got to his feet.
"What now?" his wife asked as he moved away.
"I'm just going to check on what they're up to,"
Papa called back, walking a bit faster. "You never
know with that Fritz."
Anna, following the rest, was not unhappy though.
Not yet. It was too glorious a day. The blueness and
bigness of the sky made her want to sing. And everything was still new. There was still a chance that she
might not be Awkward Anna any longer.
Then the twins discovered some metal hand rails.
In an instant, the four older children were competing
with each other like circus acrobats. They hung by
their hands and then their knees. They skinned the
cat, flipping themselvesover with ease.They held their
feet off the ground and went the length of the rails
hand over hand. Fritz shinnied up a post, winding
himself around it like a pretzel.
47
46
"Try this, Rudi!" he yelled down from high above
them.
Anna stood and watched. She was too full of admiration for her brothers and sisters to feel sorry for herself. These daring, agile creatures swinging and laughing and climbing in the sunlight belonged to her, even
though she was not like them.
Papa spoke from right behind her, startling her so
that she almost lost her balance.
"Why aren't you playing with them, Anna?" be
asked.
Anna looked up at him helplessly. She couldn't explain. What would she say? That she was too stupid?
That she would fall? That she didn't know how?
He was waiting for an answer. The brightness of
the morning dimmed.
Gretchen, flushed from banging upside down, came
running over to see what Papa wanted and saved her.
"Why don't you let Anna play too?" Papa asked
before Gretchen could say a word.
It was not a fair question. Gretchen looked at her
stocky younger sister. Anna should speak up and tell
Papa that she wouldn't play. Not that they had asked
her this time, but they hadn't asked each other either.
Anna said nothing. She bad her head turned awaya
little.
"Nobody's stopping her, Papa," Gretchen said.
"Really and truly, I don't think she wants to play.
She's hopelessat things like this. She's too big ... or
maybe too little."
48
Gretchen's words halted. Anna was not quite as
tall as Frieda but still she was,somehow,too big. They
had all seen her fall.many times. She landed heavily
and often got up so clumsilythat she tripped again.
As Gretchen gave up in despair, Fritz joined them
for a fleeting instant. He caught enough of the conversation to offer a quick opinion.
"If Anna practiced, like me and Frieda, she'd be
better. But she won't, so it's her own fault she's Awkward Anna."
He dashed off again before Papa could speak.
Gretchen wanted to go too, Anna knew,but shewaited.
"You should remember Anna is the youngest and
help her, Gretel," said Papa.
Gretchen went redder than ever.
"We have tried!" she burst out. "Papa, she doesn't
want to do our things. Really she doesn't."
At last Anna's silencereached her father. What was
he doing to her? Ignoring Gretchen, he turned and
asked gently, "Anna, would you like to come for a
walk with your Papa?"
Anna did not want pity, not even his.
"I have som~thingelse I must do right now," she
lied, not looking at either her father or her sister.
Keeping her head high, her back straight, she walked
away. A lifeboat stood nearby. She strode quickly
around it. Once out of sight, she stood still with nowhere to go, nothing to do but ache inside.
Then she discoveredshe wasstill within earshot.
"Oh, Papa," she heard Gretchen wail, "why is it
that Anna makes you feel so mean when you know
you haven't been?"
Anna tensed, ready for more hurt.
"I know it isn't always easy," Papa said slowly,
thinking his way. "But, Gretchen, there is something
special in our Anna. One day you will see that I am
right. She has so much love locked up in her."
"Yes, Papa," Gretchen said, her voice flat.
But Anna had forgotten her big sister. On the far
side of the lifeboat, she was standing in a new world,
carried there by her father's words.
Had she really heard Papa?
Speciall
She was not certain of the rest but she was sure
Papa had used that word about her, Anna.
Not "different." She hated being different. Special,
though, was something else. It meant wonderful, didn't
it? It meant better than other people.
Slowly, Anna wandered on down the deck, pondering over this magical word. It shone. It sang inside
her. It made the day beautiful again.
But was it true?
She stood still again, thinking hard.
She did not look special, she knew. She was too big
and not one bit pretty.
And there were all those things she could not do:
sew or knit or dust to suit Mama, play games, read
even easy books.
She could sing in tune. She even had a nice voice.
Fraulein Braun had said so. But all the others sang
as well as she did.
Yet Papa had said "something special."
Suddenly,just ahead of her, she sawanother railing
like the one the older children had been playing on.
She could not have tried earlier with them watching
her but now with Papa's words still sounding in her
heart, with this feeling of newness which being on
shipboard had given her, and with nobody to see and
laugh,.maybe she could do it. Then she could go back
and show them. She would not say anything. She
would just swingherself over as though she had always
done it.
Maybe.
Anna Solden marched forward to the metal railing.
She grasped it tightly, her palmsalready slippery from
tension. Scrabbling with her feet, she tried to turn
herself over between her hands the way her brothers
and sisters did. She got one foot off the ground-and
felt herself slipping.
"I can do it. I can. I cant" she grunted desperately.
But something in the way she was holding on was
wrong. There must be some trick to it. Her grip gave
way and she landed .on the hard deck in a tangle of
banged elbows and knees.
She lay, for an instant, wondering whether to try
again. But she did not know what mistake she had
made the first time.
She stood up quickly and yanked her dress straight.
51
50
Then she just ran, ran away, ran anywhere. She
knocked into a pillar and bruised her shin on a stack
of deck chairs but she did not stop. At last she reached
a stretch of deck where there was nobody, not even a
stranger in the distance. Panting, she leaned against
a wall.
The sun still shone. The sky was still as big and as
blue. Yet the joy in Anna had died.
"He is wrong," she cried out to a sea gull winging
by. "Papa is wrong about me."
There was desolation in her voice but the gull paid
no heed and no one else was near enough to hear-even
though Anna, without noticing, had just spoken her
first English words out loud.
5 •ANNA FINDS A FRIEND
"Mr. Menziessaid he'd be here," Papa said.
The Soldens,just off the train, looked around wearily. Everywhere there were strangers. No one man
stepped forward to say he was Mr. Menzies, Uncle
Karl's lawyer.
"Menzies," muttered Mama. "It is not a German
name.''
"Klara, we are in Canada now," Papa said. The tartness in his voice startled the .tired children. Papa was
not the one who snapped.
"He must be here somewhere,"he went on after a
moment of strained silence.
The family stood in a huddle near the barriers in
the waiting room at Toronto Union Station. After
leaving the ship in Halifax, they had come the rest of
the way by train. There had not been money enough
for berths. Anna had sat up for thirty-six hours, leaning
against Papa whenever she dozed, and now she swayed
on her feet. If only she could lie down somewhere!
"He'll be here any minute," Papa spoke again, anxiously scanning the faces of people near them.
Anna had let her heavy eyelids close for just one
second. Now she opened them wide in astonishment.
Papa had spoken in Germani
He must really be worried.
Anna did not stop to wonder whether she was right.
She just went to his rescue in the only way she knew,
butting up against him like a rude little goat, letting
him know she was right there:
"Take care, Anna," Mama scolded. "If you're too
tired to stand up, sit on the big suitcase."
Papa, though, smiled down into his daughter's anxious face.
"He's tall with red hair," he told her quietly.
Anna turned to look but before she saw more than
a forest of legs clumped about with luggage, Mr.
Menzies was there.
"Ernst Solden?"
"Yes, yes. You must be Mr. Menzies."
The men shook hands. Mr. Menzies was tall but his
hair was more gray than red.
"My wife, Klara," Papa began introducing them.
"My oldest boy, Rudolf
Gretchen ...
Fritz
and Elfrieda, our twins
and this is Anna."
Anna blinked at hearing Rudi and Frieda called by
their real names. Mr. Menzies smiled politely.
"You two certainly look like your father," he told
the older ones. "And the twins are very like you,
Mrs. Solden."
Anna was startled again. She had never heard her
mother called Mrs. before. Of course, it meant the
same as Frau, but it made Mama seem a stranger.
"Anna," Papa said quickly, "is lucky enough to
look like nobody but herself."
The lawyer looked at the youngest Solden and
cleared his throat.
He doesn't know what to say next, Anna thought
with scorn.
"Of course," the ·tall man murmured and turned
back to Papa. "Did you have something to eat on the
train?"
The adult talk went on over Anna's head. It was of
no interest. This Canadian was like most of the other
grown-ups she had met. He did not like her. Well, she
did not like him either.
Moving automatically, she followed the others out
of the station, across the street and into a restaurant.
There she munched on a sandwich-something she
had never eaten before-and sipped from a tall glass
of milk.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay in a hotel
until tomorrow, anyway?" Mr. Menzies was asking.
"Are there still people in the house?" Papa said.
People in their new house? Anna came almost awake
to hear the answer.
"No. Mr. Solden's tenants left last week-and I was
able to buy some furniture from them, as you hoped.
They were glad to get the cash. It isn't very good
stuff ... "
The lawyer sounded worried. Ernst Soldenlaughed.
"Right now, all we want are enough beds to go
around. Good, bad, or indifferent, we don't care, do
we, Klara?"
Mama murmured agreement but she did not sound
as sure and carefree about it as Papa did.
"Did the two big trunks come with the bedding and
dishes?" she asked.
"Yes,I had them delivered to the house. If only my
wife hadn't been ill," Mr. Menzies worried on, "she
would have gone over to see the place wasclean. These
people Karl had there were foreigners, you know.
They .. .''
lie stopped suddenly and reddened. Papa laughed
again.
"Foreigners, is it?" he repeated. "It is all right, Mr.
Menzies.We speak that way in Germany also. If the
house is empty and the bedding has arrived, we should
be fine. We can clean the house.''
"The food tastesqueer, doesn't it?" Frieda whispered
to Anna then, and Anna stopped trying to followwhat
the adults were saying.
She nodded and made a face over her next bite,
although really she did not notice anything wrong
with it.
"You're crazy," Fritz told his twin. "Here. Give it
to me.''
Food was one of the. few things over which the
twins differed. Fritz gobbled up whatever was put before him. Frieda fussed and nibbled. Yet they both
were thin and wiry. Anna, who ate more than Frieda
but less than Fritz, was stockyand had big bones.
"Like a little ox," Mama sometimesteased.
"Franz Schumacher said he'd meet us here," Mr.
Menzies.was explaining to her parents. "He was a
great friend of Karl's.''
Mama beamed. Schumacher was a good German
name. Franz, too.
"We'll need two cars to get you and your bags to
the house. He's late. A last-minutepatient, I suppose."
The wordsblurred in Anna's head. She dropped her
sandwichhalf-eaten.By the time Dr. Schumachercame
hurrying in, she was sound asleep in her chair. This
time, she missed the introductions. She did not rouse
until a deep voice, close beside her, said, "I'll carry
this little one."
Mama objected. "She is much too heavy to carry.
Wake her up. Anna ... Annal"
I can't, Anna thought groggily, keeping her eyes
shut.
Strong arms gathered her up.
57
"She's not heavy at all," Dr. Schumacher grunted,
shifting her to get a better grip. Anna flicked open her
eyes for one split second, just long enough to see the
big, friendly face. What had he said? Could she really
have heard?
If the doctor knew she was awake, he made no sign.
"Light as a feather-reallyl" he said to Mama.
Anna lay perfectly still in his arms. She kept her eyes
tightly closed and she did not smile.
Yet she loved Franz Schumacher from that moment.
6 •HALF
A HOUSE
Franz Schumacher was panting before he reached
his car, but he did not put Anna down..
As they followed him, Frieda poked Fritz. "She's
not really asleep," she whispered.
"Anybody can tell that," Fritz agreed. Then he
shrugged. "With Anna, who knows why?" he murmured.
Frieda nodded and hurried to keep up to the others.
"I'll take Mr. Solden and the boys and the two big
bags," Mr. Menzies suggested as Dr. Schumacher, still
clutching Anna, halted and looked helplessly at his
car.
r._.:.
"The door's locked," he explained.
Mama did not waste words. She grabbed Anna's
dangling arm and gave it a good shake.
"Enough of this, Anna," she said in abrupt German.
"You are not sleeping. Get down and stand on your
own feet."
Anna opened her eyes as slowly as she dared. She
yawned widely, innocently, like a kitten. Staying limp
till the last possible moment, she allowed herself to
be set on the pavement. Dr. Schumacher smiled at her
as he released her but Anna was aware of the scorn her
family felt.
"Anybody would be tired out after a long trip like
that," the doctor said, backing her up. He sounded
serious but his eyes twinkled.
He knows I wasn't really sleeping, Anna thought,
and he doesn't mind.
Dr. Schumacher turned and began to open car doors.
"In here, Anna," he directed. "I'm afraid you'll
have to squeeze over to make room."
Anna squeezed, but still there was not room enough.
Mama pulled her.
"Come. You will have to sit on my knees," she said.
Anna obeyed but this time she did know she was
too heavy. She tried to make herself lighter, to perch
on the very edge of her mother's lap. The car started
with a jerk. Anna crashed backward, and Mama gasped
as the breath was knocked out of her. The girl braced
herself but her mother, when she had breath enough
to speak, had controlled her temper. She closed her
lips tightly and shifted to adjust herself to Anna's
weight.
They drove and drove. Lights were coming on in
the houses they passed but they were dimmed by
drawn curtains. The streets were empty and gray with
dusk. Anna peered out into the shadows but she saw
nothing comforting, no single bright thing which said,
"Welcome to Canadal" Her throat ached with sudden
misery.
"It looks lonely," Mama murmured.
Gretchen, sitting in the middle with luggage on her
far side, did not answer. Maybe she, too, was remembering the small streets in Frankfurt where the Soldens
knew and were known by everyone. Even fat Frau
Meyer, who complained so about the noise they made
when they played outside, seemed a friend now that
they would never see her again.
For an instant, Anna's mind wandered, picturing
their neighbors-Trudi,
the downstairs baby, who was
not quite walking when they left; Maria Schliemann,
Gretchen's best friend; Herr Gunderson ...
Suddenly, her mind jerked forward again to the
present. Had Mama actually said it looked lonely?
Frieda was chattering to Dr. Schumacher. The old car
rattled and roared. Maybe she had merely imagined
she heard Mama speak.
She twisted halfway around and tried to read her
mother's expression. If Mama was lonely, Anna did
not know what to do.
Her mother's face stayed masked in shadow.
Gretchen, say something to Mama, Anna wished.
Then the car stopped at an intersection, directly
under a streetlight. Klara Solden lifted her head and
smiled brightly at Anna and at Gretchen too.
"We will be there soon, children, very soon," she
told them in her choppy English. "We are almost at
our new home."
As if we didn't know that! Anna scoffed to herself,
turning her back on her mother again.
Mama's loud, too-cheerful voice made the twilight
lonelier than ever.
"You must be so excited, both," Mama forged
ahead. "This is a wonderful chance for you, Gretchen
. . . and Anna too . . . seeing another country . . .
while you are still only young."
Mama did not sound as though she believed a word
she herself was saying. Anna stared out at the darkening
street. It was not up to her to answer, even if she
knew what to say. Gretchen would do it. Gretchen,
Mama's pet, would know exactly the right words to
comfort their mother. Anna waited.
Gretchen said nothing.
Forget Maria, Anna stormed at her without making
a sound. Say something. Say something to Mama.
Gretchen coughed, a small hard cough.
Then, seconds late, she at last responded to Mama's
rallying speech.
"Yes,'Mama, -of course we are excited," she said. "It
will all be very nice, I'm sure."
Now Gretchen's voice was unnaturally loud, desperately bright, just like Mama's. Anna stiffened with
anger at the pair of them. Why couldn't they be their
usual calm, irritating selves? Why did they have to be
so brave?
Frieda, in the middle of telling Dr. Schumacher
how she and Fritz had won a singing prize when they
were seven, looked over her shoulder at her older sister.
"What did you say, Gretchen?" she asked.
"I was speaking to Mama." Gretchen's voice was
flat now.
"Did Mama say something?" Frieda questioned, not
wanting to be left out.
"It· is all right, Frieda. Never mind," her mother
told her. Then she reached out and squeezed Gretchen's hands, which were clenched together in her lap.
"Thank you, daughter," she said softly. "I know
you are trying. Right now . . . right now, you are the
dearest child."
That was the last straw. It had been a long time
since Mama had called any of them "the dearest child,"
and Anna, without letting herself think about it, had
been thankful. It was a family..tradition, something
Mama had done since before Anna could remember.
Mama always assured them she loved each of them
equally. All five were precious. None was her favorite.
Yet once in a while, one child did do something extra
special and was Mama's "dearest child" for that one
moment.
63
62
Everyone liked this-everyone but Anna.
She knew, and so did the others, that she had never
really been "the dearest child." Oh, Mama called her
that now and then, but always when Anna did something Mama asked her to do, like setting the table or
going to the store. Anna tried not to care, of course.
She often told herself how little she cared. Still. it had
been nice when Mama stopped bothering. Since Papa
announced they would go to Canada, Mama did not
seem to notice special moments.
And what's so wonderful about stupid old Gretchen
this time? Anna silently asked the world. She's being
good on purpose.
Mama and Gretchen were talking softly now in
German but Anna would not give in and listen. She
did not want to hear Gretchen being . . .
Grown-up, thought Anna. .
But that was silly. Gretchen was only thirteen. Not
grown-up at all.
"Here we are," Dr. Schumacher said and parked
the car.
They unfolded themselves and climbed out.
"There," the doctor pointed.
"The whole house?" Mama gasped.
It had been years since they had had a house to
themselves. Not since Gretchen was a baby and they
lived in a cottage.
But Frieda looked more closely.
"It's half a house," she said. "There are people in
the other half."
"Yes.You share one wall with your neighbors," the
doctor agreed. "But it really is a separate house."
Mama suddenly sighed. It sounded almost like a
sob. This time, Gretchen did have the right words
ready.
"It will be better with lights in the windows,
Mama," she said.
"I know," Klara Solden answered, struggling to
sound convinced.
Then the other car pulled up and Papa was there.
As Mama turned to him. somehowshe made her smile
real.
"Our new home, Ernst," she said.
Papa now stood and stared at the tall, narrow slice
of house which was theirs.
"What did Karl want with a place this size?" he
wondered aloud.
"Oh, he didn't live here. He rented it. He boarded
with a family next door to the store. I don't know why
he bought this place but I'm afraid it is pretty rundown," Mr. Menzies explained.
Papa nodded his head thoughtfully.
"Yes.of course, I remember. Karl planned to marry
years ago. Gerda Hertz . . . but she would not wait.
Let us go in."
It was a dirty house. It was dark and smelled
closed-in and musty. Their feet crunched grittily as
they crowded into the downstairs hall. Anna pushed
close to Papa again, this time wanting reassurance
herself. He set down the large suitcasehe wascarrying
65
64
------------------·-----------·---
----------
and put one hand on top of her head. It rested there
for only a moment. That was enough. Anna moved
quickly away before the others had time to notice.
Mr. Menzies went from room to room, switching on
lights. The Soldens followed in his wake. This was
not a house to explore by yourself.
They had been upstairs for several minutes before
anyone realized that they were one bedroom short.
There was a room downstairs with a huge double bed.
That was clearly Mama's and Papa's room. There was
a small room in the front of the house upstairs. It was
small because the bathroom next to it ate into its space.
It too held a double bed-and there was no room for
anything much else. A dresser had been crowded in
behind the bed but you could only open the drawers
halfway. Nobody demanded that room.
Rudi Claimed the only other bedroom though, the
instant they entered it.
"This must be where Fritz and I belong," he said.
He dumped his armload of bundles down on the
better looking of the two· sagging single beds.
"But, Rudi," Gretchen began.
She stopped in mid-sentence. Rudi was eldest.
"All right. Come on, Frieda," she sighed, glancing
back at the first room with distaste.
"But Papa," Frieda said then. "Look. There's no
place for Anna."
7 • ANNA'S
PLACE
Frieda looked sorry a moment later.
"It isn't that I wouldn't share with you, Anna," she
hurried to say, her brown eyes hoping her sister would
understand. "But there's just one bed-and I had you
all the way over on the ship."
She grinned, trying to make Anna smile too.
"I could show you the bruises," she said.
Anna could not answer. What was there to say? She
knew she was a restless sleeper. On the ship Frieda had
often poked her awake and ordered her to stop thrashing around in the narrow berth they had shared.
Here there must be someplace though. There had
to be.
"I've found something," Dr. Schumacher called. His
voice echoed eerily in to them from the dark hall.
Relieved, they went to see. Anna walked slowly, her
back very straight, her head higher than high.
It was not a room really. It was a bite out of the hall
with one side open, a space left between the other two
bedrooms.
"An alcove," Mr. Menzies said.
Anna swallowed. It was dark in there and there was
no. window. A narrow cot stood against the wall,
. though. Someone had used it as a bedroom before.
"Anna is too little to sleep out here all alone,"
Mama said, her voice troubled.
"She can't sleep with Frieda and me, if that's what
you're thinking," Gretchen burst out. She was tired
of being the brave, kind, big sister. She spoke sharply,
without kindness. "You know how she is, Mama. She
even moans sometimes!"
Anger Hared up in Anna, saving her. Something
like pity in Dr. Schumacher's face helped fan the
flame.
"I want to sleep here. I want to be by myself," she
declared fiercely. "I hate having to share-especially
with theml"
Klara Solden's temper caught fire as quickly as
Anna's.
"Fine," she snapped, all softnessgone. "This shall
be Anna's room. And nobody will disturb her. Remember that. We shall wait to be asked."
70
t
I
The others murmured uneasy assent. The older
children were busy looking at their feet suddenly.
There was something about Anna's aloneness that
they did not want to see. Papa cleared his throat.
"Papa," Anna warned under her breath before he
could begin.
He stopped, peered down at her, and cleared his
throat again.
"What is it, Ernst?" Mama asked crossly.
"Nothing," Papa said. "We'll get you a special
chest to hold your things, Anna."
"All right," Anna said in a dull, colorlessvoice, as
though it did not matter much one way or the other.
Papa suddenly took charge.
"Baths for everyone, Klara," he ordered. "I'll find
:that box of bedding for you. These children aresleeping on their feet."
"I'll need something to clean that bathtub," Mama
responded, beginning gallantly to attempt the impossible. "Gretta, you come and help me. Oh, this place
needs cleaning so."
"Tomorrow we'll get properly settled," Papa called
after her. "It will look better in daylight. . . ·. What
about food for breakfast?" he remembered, turning
back to Mr. Menzies.
Mr. Menzies looked helpless. "My wife ... " he
began and stopped.
Dr. Schumacher came up with the answer.
71
"You'll find plenty at the store," he said. "Do you
have the key, John? We could go now."
Mr. Menzies produced the key, and the three men
started for the stairs.
"When you do get settled and a bit rested," the
doctor said, "bring the children around to my office to
have their medical examinations for school."
"School!" Fritz echoed, horrified.
The doctor looked back at the boy and laughed.
"Yes, school," he said. "It starts a week. from Tuesday."
Fritz groaned.
The men went on downstairs, Dr. Schumacher explaining on the way where his office was.
. "Come on, Fritz," Rudi ordered. The boys disappeared into their new room. Frieda ran after them.
Anna stood in the hall alone. She could hear the
men's voices rumbling below, Rudi telling the twins
how "his" room would be arranged, water running
into the bathtub.
Gretchen came back through the hall. Mama had
sent her in search of towels.
The older girl almost tripped over Anna, who still
stood by herself in the alcove which was to be her
bedroom. Gretchen paused. She looked at her little
sister. Standing there, alone, she seemed to be crying
aloud for help. But Gretchen knew Anna. It was not
that easy. She was as difficult to get close to as a porcupine. It was no use asking her what was wrong. She
would never tell.
Besides, Gretchen thought, there's so much wrong.
I hate it here too. We should never have come to this
awful place.
"Gretchen, are you coming?" Mama called.
"Yes, Mama. In a minute!" Gretchen called back.
She took two steps toward the stairs. Behind her,
Anna stood not moving, not speaking. In spite of herself, knowing it was useless, Gretchen turned back.
"Anna, it's not so bad ... " she started.
"Mama wants you," Anna interrupted. "You'd better go. You're standing in my room, anyway, and I
didn't ask y~u in."
"You ...
are ...
impossible!" Gretchen spat the
words at the younger girl.
She whirled away and ran down the stairs.
"Papal" Anna heard her calling. "Mama wants
towels."
She was alone again. She backed up and sat down
carefully on the extreme edge of the rickety cot. She
sat very still, with her arms hugged in close around
herself.
School-a week from Tuesday!
She should have known, of course. She should have
seen it coming. Yet somehow, in all the rush of the
packingand the weeksof travel, she had never thought
that far ahead. Not once had she pictured herself actually going to school in a strange land.
Schoolhad been terrible enough back in Frankfurt.
Anna sat in the darkness and remembered Frau
Schmidt. Now it was going to start again, only this
time it would be one hundred times worse. It would
be in English.
When Mama came bustling in search of her, Anna
had not moved.
"Anna Elisabeth Solden, get up from there and undress for your bath. Whafs the matter with you?"
Mama jerked at her, getting her onto her feet. "I'll
have the bed made by the time you're finished. Here,
let me help."
Anna freed herself. "I can do it," she said.
Mama's hands dropped to her sides. She sighed.
Then she frowned. Anna was moving-but so slowly.
"Speak English," her mother commanded suddenly.
Maybe she too was thinking of school beginning.
Maybe she too was afraid for Anna, her·one German
child.
"I will not," Anna said in 'German. The words
grated in her throat.
Then she turned her back on her mother and pulled
her dress up over her head. Whatever Mama said next,
she could not hear.
8 • DR. SCHUMACHER'S DISCOVERY
Dr. Schumacher's waiting room was shabby and
crowded. When the Soldens arrived, the two boys had
to stand up against one wall with their father because
there were not enough chairs.
"All right," Dr. Schumacher smiled, "who's first?"
Rudi stepped forward. Mama got up to go with
him. He scowled at her.
"I'm not a baby," he muttered, sounding like Anna.
"Let him go in by himself, Klara," Papa said. "Go
ahead, Rudi." He came over and, taking Anna on his
knee to make room, sat on the bench beside bis wife.
"It will be fine," he told her. "Wait. You'll see."
15
Mama was not convinced. She was used to taking
her children to the doctor only when they were sick.
Gretchen had to have her tonsils out when she was
three. Fritz had those bad earaches. And Rudi had
broken his arm falling out of a tree he had been told
not to climb. But for most things Mama did not need
a doctor to tell her what to do. She had her own
remedies for sore throats and skinned knees, stomachaches, and even measles. They all had injections before
they came to Canada, but that had been so hurried
that she had no time to think about it. Suppose this
doctor she did not know found one of her children had
some dread disease?
"I don't trust these foreign doctors," she muttered
now at Papa.
"Klara, we're the foreigners here!" he reminded her,
speaking quietly but not bothering to whisper. "Besides, Franz Schumacher is as German as you are."
Mama shook her head-but there stood Rudi, grinning.
"One healthy one!" Dr. Schumacher said. "You're
next-Gretchen,
is it?"
This time Mama sat still, although her eyes followed
Gretchen every step of the way until the door closed
behind her.
"Do you think she looked pale?" she asked Papa.
Ernst Solden laughed, a big laugh that filled the
room. "Gretchen-pale! She has cheeks like roses and
you know it."
/IJ
Anna snuggled closer to him and laughed too. It
was funny thinking of Gretchen as pale.
"She was green on the ship," she offered.
"Now, Anna, that is not tactful," her father said.
"Just becauseyou were the only sensibleone . . "
Mama shushed them both sternly.
Papa chuckled again and gave Anna an extra
squeeze.
Gretchen came back, her cheeks as rosy as ever.
Frieda went and returned. Fritz was a couple of minutes longer.
"Maybe something is wrong with Fritz ... "Mama
began, her eyes growing wide.
"He let me listen to my own heart," Fritz bragged,
bouncing out into the waiting room.
"A fine family, you Soldens," Dr. Schumacher
boomed, stretching out a broad hand to Anna. She slid
off her father's knee at once, and put her hand in the
doctor's. Papa smiled. So someoneelse had discovered
a way to reach his Annal
As they disappeared, Mama gave a deep sigh of
relief.
"Didn't I tell you?" her husband teased.
She had to nod. Only Anna wasleft-and Anna had
not been seriouslyill in her entire life.
"Let me hear you read the letters on this card," Dr.
Schumacherwas saying to the youngestof the Soldens.
Anna froze. Reading! She couldn't ...
She looked where he was pointing. Why, there was
77
lfi
only one letter there. That waseasy!She did know the
names of the letters now.
"E" she told him.
"And the next line down?" Dr. Schumacher asked.
Anna wrinkled up her forehead. Yes, there were
other letters. She could see them now, when she
squinted. They looked like little gray bugs, wiggling.
"They're too small to read," she said.
Ten minutes later, when he had made very sure, the
doctor cameout to the waitingroom with the little girl.
"Did you know that this child can't see?" he asked
sternly.
Ernst and Klara Solden's blank faces told him the
answer.Feeling sorry then, he tried to soften his voice,
although he was still angry on Anna's behalf.
"At least she can't see much,'' he corrected himself.
Mama snatched at Anna. Had Anna known it, at
that moment she was the only one who mattered. For
once she was actually "the dearest child." But Anna
did not guess.She pulled awayfrom her mother's anxious hands and stood out of reach.
"Of course she can see!" Klara Solden gasped,turning away from the child to this foreign doctor whom
she had not trusted from the beginning. "What do
you mean?Don't be ridiculous!"
The doctor looked from one of Anna's parents to
the other.
"She seesvery poorly, very poorly indeed," he said.
"She should be wearing glasses.She probably should
have had them two or three years ago. But before we
78
go any further, I want to have her examined by an
oculist . . . an eye doctor."
This time Mama would not be left behind. The
others stayed in Dr. Schumacher'swaiting room while
Anna was taken upstairs to see Dr. Milton. Mama
sniffed with scorn at this name, but she was too
frightened to make any added protest.
It was all like a nightmare to Anna. Once more, she
had to read letters off a farawaycard. Once again, she
could only see the big E. The new doctor peered into
her eyes with a small bright light. He made her look
through a collection of lenses. All at once, other
letters appeared.
"F ... P," Anna read in a low voice. "T ... 0,
I think . . . Z."
"Now these," Dr. Milton said, pointing to the next
row of letters. But they were too small.
Dr. Milton clucked his tongue. He began to talk to
Mama in rapid English. Mama threw up her hands
and rattled German back at him. Dr. Milton took
them back down to Dr. Schumacher's officeand the
two doctors talked. The Soldens waited anxiously,
Anna looking sullen, her usual touchy, difficult self.
She was trying, inside, to pretend that she was not
there. It was not helping.
Dr. Schumachertook her to yet another room where
she sat on a chair and was fitted for frames.
"What a nice little girl," the optometrist said
heartily.
Anna glowered.
79
"Even with the glasses, she will not have normal
vision," Franz Schumacher explained when they were
back in his office. The grown-ups took the chairs. Anna
stood near Papa but she did not look at him. Instead
she scuffed the toe of her shoe back and forth on the
worn carpet. Maybe she could make a hole in it. That
would teach Dr. Schumacher.
"She'll have to go to a special class, a Sight Saving
Class," he went on. "Lessons are made easier there for
children with poor eyesight."
"Not go to school with the others!" Mama wailed,
hoping she was not understanding.
Dr. Schumacher switched back to German. He
spoke gently, soothingly.
"It is a nice place. She'll like it there. You will,
Anna. You'll like it very much," he finished.
From the beginning, he had been drawn to this
thorny little girl. Now, guessing at how hard life must
have been for her since she started school, he wanted
more than ever to be her friend.
All of this was in his voice as he spoke straight ·to
her. He not only tried to reassure her about the special
class; he also said, without actually putting it into
words, that he, Franz Schumacher, liked her, Anna
Solden.
Anna went on scratching her shoe back and forth on
the bare place in his carpet. She did not look up or
answer. He had become part of the bad dream in
which she was caught. She hardly heard what he said.
80
What she did hear, she did not believe. How could she
like school?
In the days that followed, the Soldens were busy
settling into their new home. Mama and Gretchen
scrubbed and polished, aired and dusted. Papa went
over everything in the store, finding out what he had,
trying to decide what he needed to order. Since Karl
Solden's death the store had been kept running by
hired help, but now Papa planned to look after it by
himself.
"I think he's worried about it," Rudi told the others.
Anna thought so too. Her father seemed to have no
minutes to spare, no special smiles to give. She tagged
after him, trying to help. Both of them were surprised
when she really was a help. She counted cans of
peaches, boxes of arrowroot biscuits. She was good at
counting. When Papa checked, she was always right.
Frieda came too one day; she made mistakes.
"You hurry too much, daughter," Papa said to
Frieda.
Anna listened wide-eyed. Could it be that being
slow was sometimes a good thing?
Then, three daysbefore schoolwas to begin, Anna's
new glasses arrived. Perched on her nub of a nose,
they looked like two round moons. She longed to
snatch them off and hurl them into a far corner. Instead, she peered through them suspiciously.
For one startled moment, an utterly new expression
came over her small.plain face, a look of intense sur81
prise and wonder. She was seeing a world she had
never guessed existed.
"Oh, Anna, you look just like an owl," Frieda
laughed, not meaning any harm.
The wonder left Anna's face instantly. She turned
away from her family and stumped off up the stairs to
her alcove where none of them could follow without
permission. Papa, though, came up alone a minute or
two later.
"Do you like them, Anna?" he asked quietly.
She almost told him then. She nearly said, "I never
knew you had wrinkles around your eyes, Papa. I
knew your eyes were blue but I didn't know they were
so bright."
But she remembered Frieda's laughing words. How
she hated being laughed at!
"Do I have to keep wearing them, Papa?" she
blurted.
Papa looked sorry for her but he nodded.
"You must wear them all the time and no nonsense," he said firmly.
Anna reddened slightly. It was not right, fooling
Papa like this. But she was not ready to share what
had happened to her. Even her father might not
understand. She could hardly take it in herself.
"All right, Papa," she said, letting the words drag.
Wanting to comfort her, her father put his hand
gently on top of her bent head. She squirmed. He
let her go.
82
·1
"Would you like to come back to the store with
me?" he asked.
Anna nodded. Then she said in a mufD.ed voice,
"I'll be there in a minute. You go on down."
Ernst Soldeo started to leave. Then he turned back,
stooped suddenly, and kissed her.
"Soon you'll get used to them, Liebling" he con-
soled her. "Wait and see."
Anna felt her blush grow hotter. She was glad that
the light in her alcove was dim.:
When he had gone, she lifted her right hand and
held it up in front of her. She moved her fingers and
counted them, Even though the light was poor, she
could see all five. She examined her fingernails.They
shone faintly and they had little half-moons at the
bottom. Then she leaned forward and stared at her
red wool blanket. It was all hairy. She could see the
hairs, hundreds of them.
Everything, everywhere she turned, looked new,
looked different, looked miraculous.
At last, knowing she was safe, Anna smiled.
84
9 • THE BEGINNING
"Anna, hurry," Mama called.
Anna pulled up her other long brown stockingand
hooked it onto the suspenders which hung from a
harness that went over her shoulders.She reached for
the cotton petticoat Mama had put ready. Already
she was too hot. She felt smothered in clothes. First
there was the underwear which came down to her
knees, then the straps holding up her suspenders,then
the hateful, itchy ribbed stockingsand now the petticoat.
Mamapushed aside the curtain that hung acrossthe
end of Anna's alcove."Hurry up," she urged again.
85
Anna put on her white blouse and buttoned it. It
gaped open between the buttons.
Mama sighed. "You grow so fast," she said.
Anna sighed too. She would stop growing if she
knew how. She felt far too big already. Her heart
lightened, though, as she stretched out her hand for
her new tunic.
"One new thing each to start school in," Papa had
decided.
Always before, they had whole new outfits for the
first day of school, but by now they were gettingused
to things being different.
Gretchen had chosen a yellow blouse which made
her fair hair shine like gold. The boys picked corduroy
pants. When they got home, they pranced around in
them, making them squeak. For once, Rudi was as
silly as Fritz. Frieda and Anna got tunics.
"I hate it," Frieda had stormed. "It's dull and
awful. Like a uniform!"
"It looks fine on you," Mama had insisted, ignoring
the bright, more expensive dresses. "There is a good
big hem to let down and it's serge too. It will last
forever."
At that, Frieda moaned as though Mama had
plunged a knife into her.
Anna loved her tunic, though. She liked running
her fingers down the sharp pleats. She even liked the
plainness of it. It was like a uniform. Anna had always
secretlywanted a uniform.
86
"~it up," Mama said now, "while I fix your hair."
When it was done, she sent Anna to showherself to
Papa.
Anna hurried until she reached the landing. The
rest of the wayshe walked sedately,for she felt speciallooking and grand. She presented herself proudly to
her father.
Papa looked at her. Anna waited.
"Klara," he called, "what about ribbons for her
hair?"
Anna stood as straight as before but the proud feeling inside her crumpled. She knew what Mama would
say. Mama arrived and said it.
"Ribbons will not stay on Anna's hair," Mama said
grimly. "However I will try again. Gretchen, run and
get your new plaid ribbons."
When Dr. Schumacher arrived to take Mama and
her to the new school, Anna was ready with a bright
bow on each of her thin braids.
"You look lovely, Anna," the doctor smiled.
Anna looked away. She knew better.
"It is so kind of you to take Anna to this school,"
Mamafussed,getting herselfand Anna into their coats.
"Nonsense," Dr. Schumacher said, "I know Miss
Williams. I can help with the English, too. It won't
take long."
The three of them found nothing to say to each
other as they rode along. When they got out in front
of the school, Anna marched along between her
87
mother and the doctor. She tried to look as though
this were something she did every day, as though her
heart were not thudding so hard against her ribs it
almost hurt. Franz Schumacher reached down his
big warm hand and gathered up her cold little paw.
Anna tried to jerk away but he held on. She gulped
and went on walking: one foot . . . the other foot.
His hand felt just like Papa's. She left her hand where
it was and felt braver.
Miss Williams was the first surprise in what was to
be a day of surprises.
"It's lovely to have you with us, Anna," she said
when Dr. Schumacher drew Anna forward and introduced her and Mama.
The teacher had a low husky voice, not a bit like
Frau Schmidt's. And her smile was so honest that even
Anna could not doubt she meant it. She was pretty,
too. Her hair was as bright as Gretchen's. She looked
at Anna almost the way Papa did.
She doesn't know me yet, Anna reminded herself,
not smiling in return. She hasn't heard me read.
"I've brought you a real challenge this time, Eileen,"
Dr. Schumacher said in an undertone.
Challenge.
Anna did not know that word ..Did it mean "stupid
one"? But no, it couldn't. Franz Schumacher still had
her hand in his and the kindness of his grasp had not
changed as he said it. Anna kept the new word in her
mind. When she got home, she would ask Papa.
Fifteen minutes later she sat in her new desk and
88
watched her mother and Dr. Schumacher leave the
classroom.
"Don't leave me!" Anna almostcried out after them,
her courage deserting her.
Instead, she put one hand up to feel the crispness
of Gretchen's hair ribbon. One of the bows was gone.
Anna pulled off the other one and shoved it out of
sight into the desk.
She must not cry. She must notl
Then the desk itself caught her attention and distracted her. She had never seen one like it before. It
had hinges on the sidesand you could tip it up so that
your book was dose to you. She looked around wonderingly.The desk wasnot the only thing that was different. The pencil in the trough was bigger around
than her thumb. The blackboardsweren't black at all
-they were green; and the chalk was fat too, and
yellowinstead of white.
Even the children were different. Most of them
were older than Anna.
"We have Grades One to Seven in this room," Miss
Williams had explained to Mama.
The desks were not set in straight rows nailed to
the floor. They were pushed into separate groups.
MissWilliams put Anna in one right beside her own
desk near the front.
....
"You can sit next to Benjamin," she said. "Ben's
been needing someoneto keep him on his toes,haven't
you, Ben?"
Anna had no idea how she was supposed to keep
Benjamin on his toes. She looked sideways at his feet.
They seemed perfectly ordinary.
Was it a joke, maybe?
Anna did not smile. It did not sound like a joke to
her.
Quickly, Miss Williams told the new girl the names
of all the other children in the class: Jane, Mavis,
Kenneth, Bernard, Isobel, Jimmy, Veronica, Josie,
Charles. The names flew around Anna's ears like
birds, each escaping just as she thought she had it
safely captured.
"You won't remember most of them now," the
teacher said, seeing panic in the child's eyes. "You'll
have to get to know us bit by bit. Bernard is the oldest,
so you'll soon know him because he runs us all."
Like Rudi, Anna said to herself. She would keep
out of Bernard's way, if she could. Only she wasn't
sure which one he was.
"I think you and Ben will probably be working
together," Miss Williams went on.
"Introduce her to Ben properly. Miss Williams," a
tall boy, who might be Bernard, suggested.
"Anna, allow me to present Benjamin Nathaniel
Goodenough," Miss Williams obliged.
Anna stared at the small boy with black tufty hair
and an impish face. He was a good head shorter than
she was, though his glasses were as big as hers. Behind
them, his eyes sparkled.
"I'm named after both my grandfathers," he ex.plained.
"Now you know us well enough to begin with," the
teacher said: "It's time we got some work done in this
room."
Anna, who had been relaxed studyi~g Benjamin
Nathaniel, froze. What now? Would she have·to read?
She sat as still as a trapped animal while Miss Williams went to a comer cupboard. In a moment, she
was back.
"Here are some crayons, Anna," she said. "I'd like
you to .draw a picture. Anything you like. I'll get the
others started and then I'll be free to find out where
yo1:1are in your schoolwork."
Anna did not take the crayons. She did not know
anything she could draw. She was nowhere in her
schoolwork. She wanted Papa desperately.
And what did "challenge" mean?
"Draw your family, Anna," Miss Williams said.
She spoke with great gentleness but firmly too, as
though she knew, better than Anna did, what the girl
could do. She picked up one of Anna's square, stubby
hands and closed Anna's fingers around the crayon
box.
"Draw your father and your mother, your brothers
and your sisters-and yourself, too, Anna. I want to
see all of you.''
The feel of the box, solid and real, brought back
Anna's courage. The crayons were big and bright.
They looked inviting. The· teacher put paper on the
desk, rough, cream-colored paper. Lovely paper for
drawing. Six pieces, at least!
91
"Take your time," Miss Williams said, movmg
away. "Use as much paper as you need."
Anna took a deep breath. Then slowly she picked
out a crayon. She knew how to start, anyway.
She would begin with Papa.
10 • A CHALLENGE
Anna made Papa extra tall. The top of his head
touched the edge of the paper. She gave him wide
shoulders and a big smile. She made his eyes very blue.
Then she put Mama next to him, holding his arm.
Mama came up to his shoulder. Papa often joked
about how small Mama was. He could rest his chin
on top of her head.
Anna gave Mama a smile too but her crayon slipped
as she did it and Mama's smile was crooked. Anna
tried to fix it. She scratched at the wax with her fingernail. It flaked off but it left a smeary mark.
Should she start all over again-or give up?
92
93
Anna looked down at Papa, so tall, so happy. She
drew a new smile on Mama's face over the place where
the crooked one had been. This time the smile was
fine but you could still see where she had made the
mistake.
I know, Anna thought with sudden excitement. I'll
make her sunburned and cover it up.
Carefully, she colored in the rest of Mama's face till
it was rosy right up to her hair. It worked.
They've been on a holiday, Anna told herself, smiling a little at Iast. She made Papa's face match.
She paused and thought. By now she had forgotten
the rest of the class.Her eyeslighted and she bent over
her drawing once more.
She put Fritz's pail in Papa's hand. It didn't show,
but Anna knew there was a little fish inside that pail.
Next she put in Rudi and Cretchen. They, too,
were tall and sunburned. They had bright yellow hair
and bright blue eyes.They had bathing suits on. Rudi
was carrying his butterfly net. It was new and he was
proud of it. Gretchen had Frieda's pail, full of seashells. The two of them were walking along beside
Papa.
The twins took up most of the space next to Mama.
They were running, their legs kicking up. Fritz's ears
stuck out like cup handles. They .both looked much
too lively to be carrying their own pails. Anna left
them in bare feet.
She colored light brown sand in a band at the .
bottom of the page.
94
There. It's done, she told the part of herself that
was just watching.
Then she remembered. "And yourself, too, Anna,"
Miss Williams had said.
There was still a little room left on the page at one
side. She made herself fit into the small space. She
made her hair plain brown, her eyesan ordinary blue.
Wanting somehow to look as interesting as the rest,
she tried to draw herself in her new tunic. But she
could not make the pleats look like pleats. When she
had done her best, the girl on the paper looked
squinched up and ugly.
I've spoiled it, mourned Anna. She closedthe crayon
box.
MissWilliams cameand bent aboveher.
"Who are they, Anna?" she asked.
SlowlyAnna began to explain in German.
Miss Williams did not stop her and tell her to talk
English instead, but when Anna pointed and said
"Mein Papa," the teacher answered "Your father. My,
he is tall, isn't he?"
"Yes," Anna replied in English, only half aware she
was switching.She was too intent on making sure Miss
Williams understood about the holiday.
"They are gone on ... to the sea," she fumbled,
looking in vain for an English word for "holiday."
"I thought they had," MissWilliams said.
It was not such a terrible day. Not once did the
teacher ask Anna to read from a book. She printed the
story of Anna's picture on another piece of paper.
The letters were large and black. Anna read each
line as it appeared. She did not panic. She did not
think of this as reading.
Here is Anna's father.
He is big. He is happy.
Anna's mother is here too.
She is small. She is happy too.
They are at the sea.
Gretchen is Anna's big sister.
Rudi is Anna's big brother.
Gretchen and Rudi
are happy at the sea.
Frieda is Anna's other sister.
Fritz is Anna's brother too.
Fritz and Frieda are twins.
The twins are happy here too.
Anna is in our class.
Our class is happy
Anna is here.
"You like drawing, don't you, Anna," Miss Williams said, picking up the picture and looking at it
again, smiling at the bright colors, the liveliness of the
twins.
Anna did not answer. She was too startled, even if
she had known what to say. She had always hated
drawing in school. Frau Schmidt would put a picture
of a tulip up on the board for them to draw. Once,
97
as a special treat, she had brought real flowers in a
vase. The others had been pleased with their pictures
that day, but in Anna's, the flowers had looked like
cabbages on sticks.
"Really, Annal" Frau Schmidt had said.
Making this portrait of her family, Anna had forgotten that. This had not seemed the same thing at all.
She was still sitting with her mouth ajar when Miss
Williams went on to say something else, something
so much more surprising that Anna had to pinch herself to make sure she was not inventing the whole
thing.
"You like reading. too. I can see that. And your
English! I can hardly believe you've been in Canada
such a short time. You are amazing,Anna."
Miss Williams was not nearly as amazed as Anna
Elisabeth Solden. She, Anna, like·readingI
She wanted to laugh but she did not. She still did
not even smile openly.
All the same, Anna felt something happening deep
inside herself, something warm and alive. She was
happy.
She was also muddled. She did not know how to
behave. She had never felt this way before, not in
school anyway. She sat perfectly still, her plain face
as stern as usual. Only her eyes, blinking behind the
big new glasses,betrayed her uncertainty.
The teacher did not wait for an answer to the
astonishing things she had said. She took the picture
98
and the story and tacked them up on the bulletin
board where the whole classcould see them. Then she
got Benjamin to come over and read the words aloud.
"TwinsI" Ben said, his eyes sparkling with interest.
''Wowl''
Anna sat and listened to other classesworking. She
learned about explorers with the boys and girls in
Grade Five. MissWilliams did not seem to mind other
children listening and learning.
After lunch the teacher wound up the Gramophone
and put on a record.
"Get comfortable,everybody,"she said, "so you can
really hear this."
Another strange word! Anna waited and watched.
Ben sat on the floor, leaning his back against Miss
Williams' desk. The boy Anna thought might be
Bernard slid down in his seat till all you could see
was his head. Mavis put her head down on her folded
arms. Everybodyrelaxed, sprawled, slouched, leaned.
Anna settled herself a little more squarely on her
chair. She did not slump or get down on the floor.
But I am comfortable,she told herself.
She stopped worrying about losing Gretchen's hair
ribbon, about Miss Williams finding out how stupid
she was at schoolwork. She listened with her whole
self.
'
Music, cool quiet music, rippled through the room.
"What did this make you think of?" Miss Williams
asked when the record finished.
99
"Rain," Isobel said. She was in Grade Four and had
fat bouncy ringlets.
"I think water maybe," Ben tried.
"Rain's water," Isobel grinned at him.
"No, I mean water like a stream," Ben insisted, staying serious in spite of her.
"What do you think, Anna?" Miss Williams asked.
Anna blushed. She had not been going to say.
"I know that music from my home," she explained.
"I know the name."
"Tell us," Miss Williams smiled.
"It is 'The Shine of the Moon,'" Anna stumbled.
"But ... "
She stopped short. Miss Williams waited. The others
waited too. All the faces turned toward Anna were
friendly faces. She took a deep breath and finished.
"I think it is like rain too," she said.
"The record is 'The Moonlight Sonata' by Beethoven," Miss Williams said. "But Beethoven did not
name it that. He could have been thinking of rain."
"Or a stream," Ben said stubbornly.
"Or a stream-or something else entirely," the
teacher said. "Each of you, listening, will hear it
differently. That's fine. That's what your imaginations are for-to use. Beethoven was a great composer.
He was German-like Anna."
Anna held her head up at that. She and Beethoven!
Arithmetic was not hard. Numbers, in this classroom, were big and clear and they stayed still when
you looked at them.
100
"Good work, Anna," Miss Williams said, looking
over her shoulder.
Not, "Nobody would ever guess you were Gretchen
Solden's sister!"
She doesn't even know Gretchen, Anna realized
suddenly. She doesn't know any of them but me.
She felt lost for a moment. Her teachers had always
known her family too. Then she sat straighter.
Just me, she told herself again.
Whatever this teacher thought of her, it would be
because of what she, Anna, did or failed to do. It was a
startling idea. Anna was not sure she liked it. She
shoved it away in the back of her mind and went on
with her arithmetic. But she did not forget.
When school was over, she walked past her. own
house and went on to the store where Papa was hard
at work. She waited off to one side. When the customers were gone, she stepped up and leaned on the
counter.
"How did it go in school, my little one?" he asked·
hopefully.
Anna knew what he hoped but she ignored his question.
"Papa, what is a challenge?" She had said the word
over and over to herself all day long so she would be
able to ask.
Papa scratched his head.
"A challenge," he repeated. "Well, it is ...
something to be won, maybe. Something special that makes
you try hard to win it."
101
Anna thought that over.
"Thank you, Papa," she said, turning away.
"But school," her father cried after her. "Tell me
about it.''
"It was fine," Anna said over her shoulder. Then
she twirled around unexpectedly and gave him one of
her rare half-smiles.
"It was a challenge," she said.
"Something special," she repeated, as she started for
home. "Dr. Schumacher thinks I am something special . . . like Papa said. . . . But why something to
be won?"
She gave a little hop all at once. She would not mind
going back tomorrow.
"It is a challenge," she said over again, aloud, in
English, to the empty street.
She liked that word.
11 •THE
SECOND DAY
Anna watched her feet walking along.
One . . . two . . . one . . . two . . .
Soon she would be at the school. Maybe she could
even see it now if she looked up. She did not look up.
It was a long walk but there was no way to get lost.
You just kept going straight ahead after you got to
the first big street and turned left. Mama had watched
until Anna had. made that first turn safely. So she
was not lost.
She felt lost though.
One . . . two . . . one . . . two . . .
Yesterday at school they had been nice but she was
102
103
new yesterday. Today she would probably be Awkward Anna again. Miss Williams would not smile.
Today she'll want me to read from a book, Anna
told herself, getting ready for the worst.
"Hi, Anna,'' a boy's voice called.
Anna looked up without stopping to think. The
next instant, she felt silly. Nobody knew her. There
must be another Anna. She glanced around quickly ..
There were no other girls in sight. Only a tall boy
coming along the sidewalk from the opposite direction.
Anna dropped her gaze hastily and quickened her
steps. She was almost sure he had been looking right
at her and smiling but her new glasses must be playing
tricks. She did not know that boy.
They met where the walk led into the school building.
"What's the matter? You deaf?" the boy asked.
He was laughing a little.
Anna darted another glance up at him and then
stared at her shoes again.
It's Bernard, she thought, feeling sick.
She was not positive, but she had better answer.
Bernard was Rudi's size exactly.
"I am not deaf," she told him.
Her voice was thin and small.
"Good," the boy said. "Hey, why don't you look
at me."
Obediently, Anna lifted her head. He was still
laughing. Sometimes when Rudi teased, he laughed
too.
"That's better," the boy said. "Now I'm going to do
you a favor."
Anna had no idea what he was talking about. She
was certain now, though, that he was Bernard. She
longed to run but something firm in the way he spoke
to her made her stay facing him, waiting.
"This will be your first lesson in being a good
Canadian," he went on.
"Lesson?" Anna repeated like a parrot.
Her voice was a little stronger now.
"Yeah, lesson. When you hear somebody say 'Hi,
Anna,' the way I did, you say 'Hi' back again."
He paused. Anna stared up at him.
"You say 'Hi, Bernardi' " he prompted.
Anna just stood, still not understanding, still not
quite brave enough to run.
"Come on or we're both going to be late," he urged.
"Just say 'Hi, Bernard.' That's not so hard to say,
is it?"
"Hi," Anna heard herself whisper.
She could not manage to add his name. What did
"Hi" mean anyway?
Bernard grinned.
"That's a start," he said. "See you in class, kid.''
He loped up the walk, leaving her behind. Anna
followed slowly.
Somehow she had done the right thing. Bernard
had not been mean. But what had it all been about?
She was so puzzled that she was inside the school
before she remembered how afraid she was.
105
Then the nightmare began. She could not find the
right classroom. She wandered up one long hall, down
another. Through open doorways, she caught sight of
groups of children but she recognized nobody. Several
boys and girls hurried past her. They all knew exactly
where they were going. If one had stopped long
enough, she might have been able to ask the way but
nobody seemed to see her.
A bell clanged. Anna jumped. Then everywhere
the doors were closed.
She went on walking past the tall shut doors. She
tried not to think of Papa. She tried not to think at
all. She just walked and walked and walked.
"Annal Annal This way!"
Footsteps clattered after her. Angel footsteps! But
the angel was Isobel, her ringlets bouncing, her eyes
warm with sympathy.
"Bernard said he'd seen you so we guessed you must
be lost," she explained.
She grabbed Anna's cold hand and squeezed it.
"I know exactly how you feel," she told the new
girl, tugging her along, not seeming to mind that
Anna could not speak a word in return. "I got lost six
times my first week here. This school is so big and all
the halls look the same. At recess, I'll show you a sure
way to remember. You just have to come in the right
door, climb two sets of stairs, turn right and you're
there. Here, I mean," she finished.
Before them, like a miracle, was the right door. It
106
stood open. Nobody was working. Benjamin wasn't
even in his desk. He was at the door watching for
them. In an instant, Miss Williams was there too.
"Oh, Anna, I'm sorry I wasn't there to meet you,"
she said.
Anna let Isobel lead her to her desk. She sank into
her seat. She listened. Apparently everyone in the class
had been lost at least once in the school building.
Nobody blamed Anna. Not once did anyone say,
"How stupid of you not to have paid better attention
yesterday!"
"I got lost once just coming back from the bathroom," Ben said and blushed.
The rest laughed. Ben didn't seem to mind. He
smiled himself..
"I expect you were daydreaming, Ben," Miss Williams commented.
"I was figuring out whether a person could dig a
tunnel under the Atlantic Ocean," Benjamin admitted.
The class laughed again. Anna stopped trembling.
Here in Canada, she thought, maybe it is all right to
make mistakes.
"Now it's time we stopped gossiping," Miss Williams told them. "Take your place, Ben."
Ben went to his desk. MissWilliams moved to stand
at the front of the room. As she opened her mouth to
begin, a voice spoke up.
"Hi, Anna," Bernard said.
Anna looked at him. Then she looked at the teacher.
107
Miss Williams was smiling, waiting. Anna gripped the
edge of her desk.
"Hi, Bernard," she said, still in a whisper.
'Tm teaching her to be a Canadian," Bernard explained.
Miss Williams did not look surprised.
"Good," she said simply. "Class, stand."
When it was time for recess, Isobel did not forget.
Ben came along too. They took Anna to the door
through which she would enter the school.
"It's the door you'd come to naturally, walking from
your place," Isobel said.
Anna's surprise showed on her face. How did Isobel
know where the Soldens lived?
"I heard Dr. Schumacher tell Miss Williams your
address yesterday," Isobel confessed. "I live on the
same street, two blocks this way. Now listen, you come
in here ... "
"Cross-eyed ...
cross-eyed!" a voice in the playground sang out.
Anna did not know what the words meant. Until
she saw her stiffen, she did not know they had anything to do with Isobel.
"Ignore them, Isobel," Ben urged. "Pretend you
don't even hear, like Miss Williams said."
"Four-eyes .- .. four-eyes!" another voice took up
the mocking chant.
Isobel let the school door close, shutting the three
of them safely inside. She smiled shakily at Ben.
108
"Ignore them yourself, Benjamin," she advised.
"I hate them!" Ben said, through clenched teeth.
"Me too . . . but hating doesn't help," Isobel said.
"It would if we were a lot bigger."
She caught the bewilderment on Anna's face.
"She doesn't know what they mean," she said to Ben.
She explained about crossed eyes. Anna did not get
all the words but she understood the gestures. Isobel's
eyes did cross sometimes but they were nice eyes,
brown and kind. Anna remembered the brightness in
them that morning when Isobel had found her. She,
like Ben, hated whoever called Isobel names.
"Four-eyes" meant glasses. Ben pointed to his eyes
and then to each of his round lenses, counting them
up~
"Four," he finished.
Anna looked at his earnest face. She hesitated.
Could she make herself understood? Then she tried.
"Maybe I was it," she told him.
Ben looked at Isobel for help.
"What did you say?" Isobel asked Anna.
That hateful English! She should have known
better than to attempt it. Then in a flash, Anna knew
what to do. She imitated Ben, pointing to her own
eyes and lenses as she counted.
"Ohhhh," Ben and Isobel. said together. They
laughed, the tension leaving their faces.
"Join the crowd," Isobel said.
109
As she spoke, she put her arm around Anna's
shoulders and hugged her quickly, lightly.
"Come on. We're showing her how to find the
room," Ben reminded them.
Anna followed her guides. She did not know what
"join the crowd" meant exactly, but she was suddenly
glad she had tried out her English.
Then, as she climbed the stairs with the other two,
she remembered the tormenting singsong voices outside and she scowled. So there were boys like Rudi in
Canada too. She had been wrong about Bernard, but
there were others.
She had been very wrong about Bernard. He spoke
to her again that afternoon when school was over and
he was about to leave.
"So long, Anna," he said.
Anna did not know it but she reminded Bernard of
a stray cat. He had rescued so many stray cats that his
mother had refused to let him in the door with one ever
again. Now he waited for Anna to answer him. He did
not hurry her. You had to be gentle and patient with
strays.
At last Anna responded.
"So long?" she said, making a question out of it.
"It just means 'Good-bye till later,' " the boy explained. She understood-it meant "Auf uiiedersehen;"
He smiled at her and left, forgetting her the moment she was out of sight.
Anna did not forget. All the wayto Papa's store, she
thought and thought about Bernard.
A bell chimed when she opened the door. Anna
listened for it. It was as though the store said "Hi,
••
A nna.
It is a Canadian store, she thought.
Papa was busy. Anna did not mind. She drifted
back to a shadowycorner and perched on an upended
orange crate. Already she had chosen this dim room,
so crowdedwith things and yet so peaceful,as a refuge.
Even Papa did not have a lot of time to notice her
here. Sometimes it was nice not being noticed. Sometimes you had things·to think about, private things.
She could see Papa weighing some cheese for a
plump lady. She watched him count oranges into a
bag. But she was not thinking about him.
"Hi, Bernard," whispered Anna. "So long, Bernard."
Now Papa was climbing up a set of steps to get
down a mousetrap.
I could say it to the others too maybe, Anna
thought. Hi, Isobel.. So long, Ben.
She gasped at her own daring. Yet one of these
days, she might.
The stout lady said, "Thank you, Mr. Solden," and
went out.
Isobel put her arm around me, remembered Anna.
Papa was the only person who hugged her. When
anyone else tried, she went stiff and jerked away. She
could not help it. Sometimesshe did not even want to.
But she still did.
"Anna's not a loving child," Mama had said once to
Aunt Tania when Anna had squirmed away from a
kiss.
But today;' with Isobel, it had been different.
No fuss, thought Anna. Just nice.
Papa had turned. He was peering through the
shadows; looking for her. Anna waited for him to find
her in her comer. They smiled at each other across
the store.
"Good afternoon, Anna," her father said.
She looked at him. In all her world, he was the
kindest person. He would not laugh a:t her even if she
got it wrong. Papa never laughed at her when he knew
she was serious. She took a deep breath.
"Hi, Papa," said Anna in a loud, brave voice.
It sounded fine.
12 • A DIFFERENT
DIRECTION
Now Anna set off in a different direction from the
others every morning and got home later than they
did at night. She said very little about school and that
little only when she was asked outright.
"What is it like, this class of yours?" Mama wanted
to know.
"It's all right," said Anna.
Mama threw up her hands in despair.
"It is like trying to get water out of a stone," she
complained.
"Can you read yet, Anna?" Frieda asked.
Anna ducked her head so that her sister could not
see her face.
"Some," she said.
She can't, Frieda thought, and she wished she had
not asked.
The first week was over. Then the next. Still Anna's
family had no idea what was happening to her at
school. They were not surprised. They were used to
Anna and her moods, Anna and her silences. They
hoped for the best.
Papa saw more of her than the others because she
came to the store almost every afternoon. He had work
to do, so he could not spend time drawing her out.
But one afternoon he heard her singing to herself.
He went on stacking cans of soup with his back to her.
"O Canada, my home and native land," Anna practiced softly.
Papa nearly dropped a tin. What was happening
io..his Anna?
Bernard was helping. Ben was certainly pan of it.
Isobel, who still kept Anna under her wing, made
some of the difference. But mostly it was Miss Williams who sought and began to find a new Anna.
It was not easy. It took weeks.
"Well done, Anna!" the teacher said whenever she
honestly could. One day she added, "How quick you
are!"
Anna thought, the first time, that Miss Williams
had mixed her up with some other child. Everyone
knew that Awkward Anna was slow, slow, slow. When
the teacher said it again, though, Anna realized the
114
truth. Now that her glasses made letters and numbers
sharp and easy to tell apart, now that she could see
what was printed on the board, she, Anna, was quick.
Sometimes she was even quicker than Ben.
She sat exulting over her first perfect arithmetic
paper. Suddenly she heard Miss Williams say softly,
"Anna, what a pretty smile you have."
Anna's smile vanished. The girl waited for the next
words, words like, "Why don't you smile more often
instead of looking so sulky?" But Miss Williams
turned to Isobel and began explaining what was
wrong with her long division. She did not seem to
think she had said anything surprising.
Anna practiced smiling after that. To start with,
she did it shyly and seldom. Yet Miss Williams always
smiled back, and before she knew it, the other children were smiling at her too. Ben's grin was so catching Anna could not help answering with one of her
own. Her smiles still did not last long but they came
more and more often.
"I wish I had dimples like yours, Anna Solden,"
Miss Williams sighed. Anyone could tell it was a sigh
of real envy. "I've always longed for a dimple."
Anna did not know she had dimples. She did not
know what dimples were. When Isobel explained,
Anna poked the tip of her finger into the one in her
right cheek. She smiled; it was there. She stopped
smiling; it was gone. Swiftly, gaily, it came and went.
Anna blushed faintly.
115
And I have two of them, she thought.
That night, at supper, she watched Frieda and
Gretchen. At last Frieda laughed at one of Fritz's
jokes. Then Gretchen smiled too. Neither of them
had even one dimple.
Then, halfway through October, Miss Williams
came to Anna's desk one morning with a book in her
hands.
"I have a present for you, Anna," she said. "It's
yours to keep. Much of it is too hard for you to read
yet but I think you will like it anyway. It will be a
challenge for you."
At the word "challenge," Anna's face lighted. She
took the book into her own hands. On the cover there
was a picture of a tall gate. Through the bars, she
could see two children in a garden.
"A ... Ch ... Chil ... " she began slowly,frowning over the words.
"Child's," the teacher helped her.
"A Child's Garden of ... Verses," Anna said triumphantly. "What is 'verses'?"
"Poems," Ben told her. "Look."
He reached for the book, opened it and showedher.
"Ohhh, Gedichte," Anna said, understanding.
"The man who wrote the poems had no brothers
and sisters," the teacher said, pulling up a chair and
sitting down next to Anna's desk. "His name was
Robert Louis Stevenson."
"Didn't he write the one about the swing?" Jane
asked.
MissWilliams nodded and smiled at Jane. She went
on as though she were telling them a story. The whole
classlistened.
"He was sick a lot. All his life really. And I think
he was often very lonely when he was little. He played
lots of games with his imagination, though."
Imagination was a .long word but Anna knew what
it meant. Miss Williams loved imagination. Just the
day before she had looked at one of Anna's drawings
of a giant striding out of his castlewith his head above
the clouds and she had said, "You have a fine imagination, Anna." Anna had never thought before about
what kind of imagination she had but she could not
doubt MissWilliams. Imagination was one thing Miss
Williams knew all about.
Does Gretchen have a fine imagination? Anna wondered. She thought not.
Now she opened her book and began to leaf through
the pages. The teacher went away and left her.
"Try these problems, Ben," she said. Ben got busy.
Miss Williams started the four children in Grade
Three hearing each other practice their multiplication
tables.
Nobody bothered Anna. Nobody told her to put
the book away or asked her to stand and read from it.
All morning long she was left with her present, left
to puzzle over it and discover its treasures for herself.
Much of it was too hard for her. But the very first
poem she tried to read, she understood. It was about
getting up in the dark in winter and having to go to
"Who were Tom and Maria?" she asked, interruptbed while it was still light during the summer. Mama
was strict about bedtime. Anna knew exactly how
Robert Louis Stevenson felt. She read the last verse
ing geo~phy.
Miss Williams did not tell her it was rude to interrupt. "Maybe his cousins," she said. "He played with
over again, nodding her head.
them sometimes."
Anna smiled over Maria wanting to go to sea. She
thought of asking Miss Williams if Mr. Stevenson had
ever become a lamplighter. Somehow, she did not
need to ask. He had written poems instead.
She went on to the part she liked best:
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
She found another one though, that morning, which
was forever after her favorite. It was called "The
Lamplighter.''
Isobel was not certain what a lamplighter was so
Miss Williams had to come to their rescue. She described the gas lamps which had lined the street when
Stevenson was a child and told them about the lamplighter_:_the man who came and lighted them every
evening.
"I love that paem too, Anna," she said with a smile
as she went back to help Grade Six with geography.
Anna read the middle verse over.
Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be;
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I'm to
do,
0 Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps
with you.
118
And oh! before you hurry by with ladder and with
light,
0 Leerie, see a little child and nod to him tonight!
She waited, this time, for the teacher to notice her.
MissWilliams seemed to feel her waiting.
"Yes, Anna?" she asked.
"Do you think Leerie did see him there, Miss Williams?" Anna's heart was in the words.
"Yes, I do," Miss Williams said simply. "I think
that is what made Mr. Stevenson remember him all
those years later. May I read it to the others?"
Anna held out the book.
"Perhaps you would help me," the teacher said.
"Could you read the last verse, do you think?"
Anna had never been invited to read aloud before.
Frau Schmidt had given orders, not invitations.
"I'll help if you get stuck," Miss Williams assured
her, and began:
119
Then she stopped smiling. Anna was putting the
"My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky.
It's time to tok« the window to see Leerie going by;"
Everyone was listening, even the boy and girl in
Grade Seven.
"All right, Anna," MissWilliams said. Anna gulped
and started to read the last verse. She had read it over
several times. She hardly stumbled.
"For we are very ...
lucky, with a lamp before the
door, ...
And Leerie . . . stops to light it . . . as he lights so
many . . . more, . . ."
Two more lines and it was done. MissWilliams had
not had to help once. Anna looked up, her face
shining.
"Good for you, Anna," said·MissWilliams.
At noon, Anna went up to the teacher's desk, the
book in her hands.
"Is this really my own book?" she asked, unable
to believe in the gift.
"Your very own. You may take it home."
"I told you so, Anna," Ben reminded her. "She
gives everybody a book. She gave me The Wizard of
oc:
"Thank you," Anna said.
She should have said that right away, she realized.
Embarrassmentmade the wordssound stiffand formal.
Yet the teacher smiled.
120
book back inside her desk.
"Anna, I said you might take it home," she repeated.
Anna turned. Her face was wooden.
"Cannot I leave it here?"
"Wouldn't you rather take it home?" the teacher
asked.
"No," Anna said.
"All right. You may do whatever you like with it.
It's your book," Miss Williams assuredher.
Again she wondered what was wrong at Anna's
home. She had asked Franz Schumacher about the
Soldens,but he had been puzzled too.
"They seem a happy family except for Anna," he
had said. "She's the youngest, of course, but that
-shouldn't make her so ... so bristly. Perhaps it
started when nobody understood she had trouble
seeing."
Anna marched out of the classroomto go home for
lunch. The new book waited in her desk. Miss Williams waited too. Was she going to have to begi~ all
over again to win Anna's slow trust, to coax from her
that shy smile?
But when Anna came back, her prickleswere gone.
She hurried to her place, her face eager and alive.
Immediately she got out her new book.
First she reread ·the poems she bad mastered that
morning. Then she started on a new one. It was
121
harder. She could not even read the title. She sounded
out the words slowly, moving her lips. whispering
the syllables aloud.
"'E s . . . cape . . . at . . . Bed . . . ume.
.
'"
She turned to Isobel for help but only a little help.
She wanted to read it herself.
The book was so lovely, the Poems like music, the
pictures wonderful. And it was a challenge.
"Like me," Anna Solden told herself with satisfacrion.
13 • AFTER SCHOOL
'\
\
'
'
Toward the end of October Papa began to need
help at the store,yet he could not affordto hire anyone.
One night he came home too tired to eat. He slumped
forward, his head on his hands, and when Mama
brought him his plate, he pushed it away,sayingonly,
"Not now, Klara. I just can't."
That waswhen Mama spokeup.
"I know what you need," she commented, dropping
into the chair acrossfrom him.
"What?" Papa said wearily, not even looking up.
Mama hesitated for a moment. It was not like her
to stop short of saying what she meant to say. The
123
----~-
----
-- -----
- - ---- --
----------------
--
children were finishing their dessert. All five looked
around at her, even if Papa did not. Mama seemed
unusually pink and was she flustered? Fritz paked
Frieda with his toe. Frieda jabbed him back, agreeing
that something was up.
Mama cleared her throat. Anna sawher hands twist
together in her lap.
"Yes, Klara?" Papa said. He, too, was curious now.
I
'
"What do I need?"
"Me," Mama said.
The one word papped out like a cork coming out of
a bottle. Other words rushed after it. She explained
how she could help. The store needed cleaning. She
had seen that for a long time. And she knew just how
to display the v(!getables.And she had been at the
head of her classin bookkeeping. Of course, that had
been years ago and she knew things had changed and
maybe he did not want her. He just had to say so. She
would understand. But all the children were in school
and she knew nobody here and she bad nothing to
do ...
Anna stared in fascination at her mother. She was
sure Mama had not yet taken a breath. If she did·not
run down soon, she might explode.
Papa stood up. He strode around the table. He
leaned down and kissedhis wife soundly,stopping the
flood of words.
"You will be a gift from heaven," he said.
Mama began the very next day. After school Anna
went to the store as usual. Papa, bearing the door
chime, turned, saw her, and smiled broadly.
"Your mother is a better storekeeper than I am,"
he boasted. "Look around. You will see how clever
she is."
Anna looked. He was right. Already the place was
brighter. Mama had put in stronger light bulbs. There
were no truly dim corners left. A lot of the dust had
vanished too.
Anna stood watching. Mama noticedher.
"Don't block the doorway, child," she said.
When customers came, Klara Solden acted as
though she had always been there. Her English was
still strange but she launched into it anyway,advising
ladies about bargains, assuring them that the eggswere
fresh.
Once when she meant "fresh," she said "raw." The
lady she said it to laughed at her.
"Well, I didn't intend to buy cookedeggs,"she said.
Mama tried to correct her mistake but got flustered
and could not think of the word she wanted. The lady
turned away, as though Anna's mother was not even
there, and started poking at the fruit, turning apples
over and putting them back.
I know how you feel, Mama, Anna thought. I know
exactly.
If her mother had not started to talk with someone
else, the girl might have gone to her then and there
and spilled out her secret. At home she still spoke
125
124
----
-----·
for a moment. She made noresponseand Isobel stepped
German but at school she now talked English all the
time. Well, almost. Soon she planned to tell them at
home. She daydreamed about how amazed they were
going to be. But not yet. First she wanted her English
to be perfect. She did not want Rudi to catch her
making even the smallest mistake.
"Anna, don't upset those cans," Mama called over
at Anna
her. shook her head to say she would not. Then
she went home. The store was no longer her place.
Not only the dust had disappeared. The quiet was
gone too· Without the dust and the dimn£SS•without
the peace. without the cban<:<to have Papa to herself
{or minutes at a time, Anna saw no reason to stay.
The next afternoon, she dawdled when school was
i
let out. She was in no hurry to get home. She was still
too young to play with the others, new glassesor no
!j
new glass<S·Sometime" now she watclied and thought
she might be able to do the things they did if they
would only ask her. They did not understand how
changed her world was. They did not think to ask.
,,'''
"Anna, aren't you going to the store?"Isobel puffed,
catching up to her as she went down the street like a
I
\
)
·,
"'''r.
snail.
Trudging along, looking at her feet, Anna shookher
head.
"We can walk together then," said Isobel.
Anna's unhappiness was still wrapped around her
like a thick cloak.She did not really hear Isobel'swords
126
back.
"Forget it," she said, her eyes still puzzled. "I
thought you'd want to."
Then Anna understood. Almosttoo late, she threw
off her misery. Her face glowed.
"I do want to, Isobel," she said. "It would be very
nice."
Isobel was not bothered by the stilted words. She
knew Anna. From then on they walkedtogether almost
every day. Now that Anna was so busy listening to
Isobel's constant chatter, she had little time to worry
about missing going to the store. The older girl knew
everything. She told Anna about Ben's father who
played a violin in an orchestra and sometimeswaited
on -tables. She explained what Halloween was. She
gossipedabout Miss Williams.
"I think she's in love," Isobel said.
Anna's mouth dropped open. "You dot" she exclaimed. "Who is she in love with?"
For once, Isobel failed her. "I'm not sure," she said
mysteriously,"but I have an idea."
Anna nodded sagely.Isobel just was not telling.
The first time the older girl asked her to come and
meet her mother, however, Anna hung back. Even
with Isobelalong to giveher courage,she did not want
to go into a strange house and face an unknown adult.
"Oh, come onl" Isobel pulled at her arm. "She
won't eat you. As a matter. of fact, she'll feed you."
127
retort to remind her who she was-the
youngest, the
Dummkopf, Awkward Anna-she wheeled around and
left the room.
Sheheaded for the stairs,not caring what they would
say,but she heard Rudi whether she wanted to or not.
"I told you, Gretchen," he jeered. "Helping Anna
is like trying to pat a biting dog.''
Gretchen did not answer though. Anna paused.
Still Gretchen did not speak.
All at once, Anna wished she had not said that last
bit about the mistakes in Gretchen's knitting; but she
did not go back. Her sister deserved it.
"If it's from Anna, it needn't be anything big or
special:"
Who did Gretchen think she was?
At the top of the stairs, Anna veered and went to
look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was not
interested in the sight of her own face. To her, it was
dull and plain. She had never seen it when her dimples
flashed.But she could talk to herself better sometimes
when she could see herself at the same time.
"Can I make a present?" she asked the girl in the
mirror. "How can I earn money?A lot of money!" she
added recklessly.
She might as well make her wishes big.
But the girl in the mirror looked as discouragedas
Anna felt. She hunched up her shoulders, made a face
at herself,and turned away.
Papa might help, Anna thought suddenly.
But no.
This present had to be a surprise, a secret. It would
not be fair to go to Papa.
Anna wandered into her alcove and lay on her cot.
She did not search for an inspiration any longer. She
just hoped. Maybe, somehow, something wonderful
would happen yet.
Three months before, she would not have hoped at
all.
The front door opened and closed. Mama and Papa
were .home. The youngest of the Soldens got to her
feet and started down the stairs. Gretchen had put the
meat pie into the oven. It smelled like heaven.
Mama smelled it too. Before she had her coat off,
she gave Gretchen a grateful hug.
"So it is you who are the dearest child tonight, my
Gretel," she said. "It is so cold out. The hot pie is just
what we are needing."
Anna was hungry and the pie was delicious, even if
there was not really much meat in it. But she could
not finish hers.
"Are you feeling well, Liebling?" Mama slipped
into German in her anxiety.
Anna did not look up.
"I'm fine," she growled.
"You don't look well, does she, Ernst?" Mama
would not let the subject go.
Gretchen, too, looked anxiously at Anna. Was it
because of the presents?
"Leave her alone, Klara," Papa said lightly. "She
just wants more room for dessert, don't you, Anna?"
Inside the front hall, Anna tried to get behind her
friend.
"Mo-therl" Isobel yelled, shattering the silence.
Then Mrs. Brown was there, smiling at Anna with
a smile so like Isobel's that the new Anna smiled
bravely back.
"Anna, I'm so pleased to meet you," Mrs. Brown
said.
Maybe I'm getting better looking, Anna thought
as 'she stood in bashful silence but went on smiling.
No, nothing had changed about her except her new
glasses.
And my dimples, Anna remembered.
Somehowshe was sure she had not had dimples back
in Germany.
"How about some bread and butter and brown
sugar?" Mrs. Brown broke in on ·her thoughts.
Suddenly Anna felt empty right down to her toes.
"Yes, please," she said, as though she had always
known Isobel's mother.
The two girls stopped in for a snack almost every
day after that. Anna, realizing after a week or two how
one-sided this was, asked Papa if she could bring
Isobel to the store sometimesfor something to eat.
"Of course," Papa said at once. "Any time, Anna."
Mama talked about it a bit more. Anna had known
she would. She had never brought a friend to meet
them before. She had not had anyone to bring.
"What is she like, this Isobel?"asked Mama. "Is she
German?"
"You will see. No, not German," was all Anna
would say.
She knew Papa would like Isobel. She thought
Mama might not like the way her eyes crossed. But
Mrs. Solden smiled at Isobel as warmly as Mrs. Brown
had smiled-at Anna.
"Here are oatmeal cookies," she said. "Just one
each, though."
She put the rest of the box behind the counter
especiallyfor them.
"Your mother's nice," Isobel said afterward as they
nibbled their cookies to make them last.
Anna took another tiny bite. "Yes," she said, "she
is."
She had almost answered,"Not as nice as Papa," but
she had caught the words back. They had not seemed
fair even if they were·how she felt. Mama had given
them the cookies.
One afternoon in November as the girls neared the
Browns', Isobel said, "When I was little, Mum used
to give me a glass of milk with my bread. And she'd
alwayswant to know if I wanted more."
Anna was silent, taking this in.
"Then last year, when Dad couldn't get work, she
didn't give me anything at all," Isobel went on, her
voice low.
Anna thought this over. It was her tum to say something.
"It is the money," she said. "My Mama and Papa,
they worry too about the money. Rudi sayswhen he
was small, he could have all the cookies he wanted.
But he might be lying."
Isobel nodded. Then, her face brightening, she
went on, "But we will have Christmas this year no
matter what. Mother promised."
Anna stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk
and stared at her friend.
"Always there is Christmas," she stated.
"Not last year," Isobel said. "Oh, we got one thing
each, something to wear. But that was all. Dad said he
was sorry but there was just no use in hanging up our
stockings. The Depression had hit Santa Claus too, he
said.''
Anna had to have a lot o~this
.... ._ explained to her. She
had never hung up a stocking-'Shequickly understood
that Santa Claus was Saint Nicholas, der Weihnachtsmann-the Christmas Man. She did not know what
the Depression was. Isobel did well with the first two
but all she knew about the Depression was that her
father had lost his job and there had been no money.
Now he had a new job.
"He works for my uncle," Isobel said. "They're
undertakers."
"Under ... what?" Anna asked.
Isobel's cheeks went pink but she smiled.
"That is a word you really should know, Anna
Solden," she said. Then she explained. Isobel had to
explain many, many things to Anna many times a day.
131
It was tiring sometimes, but she did not really mind
because Anna remembered what she was told. She
would mutter each new word to herself, and next
thing, you would hear her using it talking to Ben or
even Bernard. Isobel, who worshipped Bernard, wished
she knew how Anna had become such a friend of his.
"Undertaker," Anna was murmuring now. "Undertaker."
Isobel's eyes sparkled. She hoped she was there
when Anna tried to use that word. Anna looked up,
caught 'her laughing, and laughed too. Alone with
Isobel, laughter came naturally to the youngest of the
Soldens.
That night at supper, Gretchen announced, "Papa,
I have to have skates!"
Papa said nothing. Gretchen leaned toward him.
"All the girls skate," she said: "They were talking
about it today. When the ice is thick enough, that's
all they'll do.''
"Wait a little," her father said. "Christmas is com-
. ,,
mg.
Gretchen thought Christmas was a long way off but
she held her tongue. She knew her parents were worried about money. She wished she were Anna's age
again. Look at Anna right now! She was positively
beaming. Gretchen wanted to slap her.
"Nothing's funny, Anna," she said coldly, "so stop
smirking."
"Gretchen," Papa said ominously.
132
'Tm sorry," Gretchen muttered, wishing she really
dared slap her little sister.
Rudi, who had already traded his stamp collection
for secondhand skates, gave her a look of sympathy.
He knew what was important here in Canada even if
none of the others did.
Neither of them guessed that Anna smiled because
Papa had just said, "Christmas is coming." They, who
knew so much, had never dreamed that Christmas
might not come. Anna, after her talk with Isobel,
knew it was not certain at all. If there was no money,
they would have to do without Christmas.
But now Papa had as good as promised. Gretchen
or no Gretchen, Anna smiled on.
She saw her father look at her anxiously. Maybe he
thought she, too, wanted skates. But she didn't. Just
Christmas itself, with the magic of the tree, with the
singing, with special things to eat, special smellsin the
air, with extra happiness all through the house-that
was what made her joyful.
"Enough about skates," Mama said. "Who wants to
wash the dishes and be my dearest child?"
She was laughing, teasing them.
"You know something, Klara," Papa said, the tension leaving his face. "I think working in that store
all day agrees with you. You are turning back into
your old self."
"Maybe, maybe," Mama said. "But I am still looking for a dishwasher."
133
At last Gretchen volunteered. It· was her tum anyway. But lately, when Rudi took the garbage out
without being asked, when Frieda sewed on her own
button, when Gretchen helped to clean the silver
which had finally come from Frankfurt, when Fritz
sang his mother German songs, each of them became
"the dearest child." Life was getting back to normal.
Even Anna liked it.
Not that she had herself become "the dearest child"
at home.
"Anna, hurry and get the table set," Mama called
the very next night.
Still something in her voice said Anna was slow.
Anna, trying to be quick, put the forks and knives
crookedly and one spoon upside down.
"Oh, Anna," Mama sighed, as they sat down. "When
will you learn to take care I"
Anna straightened her own fork and felt anger
boiling up inside her. Hadn't Mama said to hurry?
She began to eat in silence, leaning over her soup
bowl.
"And don't slouch," Mama went on. "You're so
round-shouldered."
- She had just told Fritz to eat more quietly but
Anna did not notice that.
Always I am the one she picks on, she stormed inside herself. She did not straighten up.
Fritz too felt picked on. He too thought it was
unfair. He looked sideways at Anna's furious face.
"At least I speak English," he said virtuously.
That was too much. Anna, who never answered
them back when they teased, who stared straight
through her tormenters, forgot the cold silence she
had mastered under Frau Schmidt and exploded.
"You shut up!" she yelled at Fritz, who could not
believe his ears.
"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UPI" she added to make
sure he got the message. In English, tool
Then she jumped up and ran from the table up
the stairs to her own alcove where she threw herself,
face down, on the bed.
This time, nobody would come up after her. In the
Solden family, nobody ever left the table without
being excused first by Papa. She had just been ruder
than she had ever been in her life before.
And she had enjoyed it. She giggled into her pillow,
remembering how Fritz's eyes had popped. Then she
stopped and lay very still. Was Papa terribly angry?
If she had gone to the stairs and listened, she would
have heard her father telling the family that they were
to stop teasing Anna and tormenting her.
"I've told you and told you that she is the youngest.
And she does speak some English, Fritz, with that
friend of hers. I've heard her. At home, we could all
talk German now sometimes. We do not want to lose
our own language."
Anna, not hearing, told herself that it did not
matter what anyone else thought if only Papa was not
too angry.
Then, suddenly, her eyes gleamed andshe began to
135
,/
sing softly, under her breath, at Mama, at Fritz, at the
whole world which tried to bother her.
And if tyrants take me
And throw me in prison,
My thoughts will burst free
Like blossoms in season.
Foundations will crumble.
The structure will tumble.
And free men will cry,
"Die Gedanken sind freil"
14 • RUDI'S MEETING
Everywherein Toronto, store windowsand colored
lights and radio programs and the Santa Claus Parade
were telling children that Christmas was coming.
Fritz and Frieda had been asked to sing a duet in
German at the school Christmas Concert. Rudi had
asked for a dog. He asked every year at Christmas,although all the children, Rudi included, knew he
would not get one. Mama said five children were
enough wild life.
The first snow fell and melted by mid-morning.
The second drifted down in fat lazy flakesand stayed
on the ground like spun sugar for two whole days.
136
137
"Do they have Christmas trees here, Ernst?" Mama
asked.
Her eyes twinkled. Anna was certain she was teasing. Still, she felt frightened for a moment till Papa
said, "Of course!"
In spite of his sureness, in spite of the snow and the
carols and the talk of the puppy they would not get,
in spite of everything beginning to point to Christmas,
there was an uneasiness in the house. The children
tried to pretend it did not exist. After all, Mama and
Papa did talk of Christmas-but not in the old way.
Always before, they had entere~ eagerly into the
planning. This year, they looked at each other soberly
and remained silent.
'.'Rudi, what's wrong with Papa and Mama?" Fritz
put it into words at last.
.
"I'm not sure," Rudi said slowly.
I know, Anna thought.
She did not tell because Rudi was the oldest. It was
up to him to decide such important things. Perhaps,
though, Rudi did not have a friend like Isobel who
could explain.
It is the Depression, Anna said wisely to herself. It
is not enough money.
Gretchen, not Rudi, arrived at the same answer. A
couple of days later, when the children were alone in
the house, she made it clear.
"People just aren't buying enough at the store,"
138
I
f
she said. "I think they don't have enough money for
the kind of Christmas we had in Frankfurt."
As she finished speaking, she gave a sharp sigh.
Anna knew her big sister's dream of ice skates was
vanishing.
Rudi glowered at her.
"Well, there's nothing we can do about that," he
said, throwing himself down into Papa's chair. "We
all have to go to school."
"If I were old enough, I'd quit and- go to work,"
Fritz 'announced.
He sounded so wistful they all laughed. Everyone
knew how much Fritz loved school! Without Frieda's
help, he would have failed long ago. He was clever
but he waslazy too.
"We'd all be glad to stop school, you Dummkopfl"
Rudi said.
I wouldn't, Anna thought.
For so long she had dreamed about the heaven of
no school. It wasqueer to know, all at once, how much
she would miss it now.
"Everybody think hard tomorrow," Rudi said.
"Kids in books always have ideas and save the family
from starvation. Get home right after school and we'll
compare notes. There must be something!"
When they came down to breakfast the next morning, though, Rudi had had an idea already.
"What is it, Rudi?" Frieda said in a stage whisper
while Mama was in the kitchen for a moment. Papa
139
had gone to the store before any of them were downstairs.
"Shhh," he warned her, frowning. Mama was coming back. "Just hurry tonight. I'll tell you then."
Mama, who used to be able to read their very
thoughts, seemed unaware of the stir of excitement as
the children left for school. When Anna shut the door
behind herself, Mama was at the closet getting her
coat. Every morning she hurried to the store as soon
as they were gone.
Anna tried to think that day but she was busy learning a new poem by heart and showing Ben how to
carry when you add. Anyway, Rudi had the answer.
"I can't wait tonight," she gasped at Isobel after
school and streaked for home as fast as she could.
She was still late. She had farther to come than the
others and the sidewalks were slippery. They would
go on without her, of course. All the same, she was
breathless when she tugged the front door open.
From the hall, as she struggled out of her scarf and
coat, mittens and hood, she listened.
Rudi was in the middle of a speech. She could hear
him walking up and down importantly as he talked.
Papa did that sometimes.
"So that's what we'll do," he said. "This year, we'll
make our presents for them and save them the Christmas money Papa always hands out. When they go to
give it to you, Gretchen, you can just say, 'Thank you,
but this time we have decided to make our own
140
I
arrangements.' I'm pretty sure, the more I think about
it, that they're worrying about money for Christmas as
much as anything. I mean, we can let down our old
clothes and stuff. And Mama's more careful about
food. So the presents must be the thing. It's good we
don't give each other anything.''
Everyone talked at once. Anna, tucking her mittens
into her coat pocket, smiled. Good for Rudi!
"Great ideal" Fritz didn't know he was agreeing
with her.
"I don't need you to tell me what to say to Papa,"
Gretchen had her nose in the air. Then Anna, from
the doorway, saw her grin at her older brother. "You
did make it sound grand though," she admitted. "Tell
me again.''
While Gretchen practiced the words over in an airy
unreal voice and Anna leaned over to unbuckle her
galoshes,the twins clamored for attention.
"But, Rudi, we're no good at making things."
Anna felt a sudden chill•..She worked on the next
buckle. It wasstiff.What would Rudisay?
"Can you earn money?" Rudi wanted to know.
"Well . . . maybe," Fritz ventured for them both.
"Buy them something then," Rudi lightly brushed
aside their anxiety. He was not going to have anyone
or anything stand in the way of his plan. "That's what
I'm going to do myself."
"How?"
"You'll see. I promise you one thing though. It's
141
going to be the best present of them all," boasted
Rudi.
Anna kicked her overshoes off. The other four
turned at the sound and discovered her. She watched,
while dismay broke over each face in turn.
"What in the world can Anna give them?" Gretchen
was the one who put it into words.
"Oh, she doesn't count. She's only nine," Rudi said
too quickly. Staring up at the ceiling, suddenly he
started to whistle.
He was wrong about her not counting. With Ben
she counted. With Isobel. With Papa. With Miss Williams. Anna knew that. But the words still flicked at
her in a way that hurt.
Still, could she make a Christmas present for. her
parents? Rudi could earn money easily. He said so
himself. And Gretchen knitted almost as well as Mama.
The twins, Anna was sure, would find a way.
They are full of imagination, she thought.
She alone could do nothing.
Gretchen, still staring at her, suddenly cried out,
"Don't you worry, Anna. I'll knit something to be
from you. If I start right away, I'll have time, I'm
sure."
Before Anna had time to answer, Rudi said roughly,
"Oh, Gretel, don't be so silly. They won't expect anything from her once they know we're making the
presents ourselves. I think we should try to make them
really great things."
The Anna Soldenwho had lived in Frankfurt would
have seen that Rudi was right and given up before she
started. But this was another Anna. She was braver
now, a little older, a~d much better at making things.
Sometimes,now, she could even see the hole in the
needle. She came a step into the room and then another. She still had not spoken but she was thinking
harder than she had ever thought before.
Drawingsmaybe?Miss Williams liked her drawings.
She could put some into a sort of book.
But Rudi could draw galloping horses that practically moved acrossthe page and Frieda often sat and
sketched Mama while she ironed, or Papa reading a
book, and anyone could tell right awaywho they were
supposed to be and what they were doing.
Not pictures, Anna decided.
"You really are mean, Rudi," Gretchen flared. "Of
course Anna will want to give something. And I will
so knit her something. If it's from Anna, it needn't
be anything big or special.",
The last sentence jabbed into Anna like the thrust
of a knife. Suddenly, she stopped thinking. Her chin
shot up. Her eyes, behind her big glasses, sparked
with anger and humiliation. They would see. She
would show them.
"I will give my own present, thank you very much,
Lady Gretchen," she threw the words like darts.
"You can keep your stupid old knitting. People only
say they like it to make you feel good. Everyone
knows it's full of mistakes."
Then, before any of them could come back with a
Anna slumped so that her face was in shadow.
"That's right," she managed to answer.
After that, she had to eat all her dessert. It was an
apple, a Tallman Sweet, her favorite kind. Anna
chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed. The
apple had no taste at all.
As soon as she could get away, she went up and got
herself ready for bed.
"Anna, are you asleep so soon?" Mama poked her
head in around the curtain Anna had carefully drawn
all the way shut.
Anna lay still and kept her eyes closed. She took
long, steady breaths. Finally, her mother tiptoed away.
Then Anna opened her eyes. Once more, she would
try to think. Surely there was something she could do
to make good the words she had flung so proudly and
defiantly at the others.
She thought and thought. There must be a way.
There had to be.
But when she entered the schoolroom the next
morning and banged down in her desk, Anna Solden
still had not had a single idea.
And she had given up hoping.
15 • MISS WILLIAMS ASKS
l
1
Anna saw the surprise on Miss Williams' face. For
a long time now, she, Anna, had come into the room
with a smile for her teacher. But she did not feel like
smiling. And she did not care what Miss Williams
thought. about it either.
She opened the lid of her desk, grabbed her pencil
box, slammed down. the desk lid and put down the
pencil box with another crash.
"Good morning, Anna," Miss Williams said evenly.
Anna considered not answering, 'She gloweredat the
pencil box and let one second tick past, and then
another. But in spite of herself, she looked up and
met the teacher's steady gaze.
"Good morning," Anna muttered.
Bernard strolled over and stood beside her.
"What's got into you, kid?" he asked, his voice low,
teasing, very kind.
Anna remembered just two days before. Isobel and
Ben and she had been talking about the schoolyard
bullies who waited for them and called names and
threw snowballs. Bernard had overheard and the four
of them had planned a counterattack. The two boys
had been stunned when, suddenly, four of the victims
had come charging after them, armed with snowballs
of their own.
"Our aim won't be very good," Bernard had said,
"so we'll have to have lots and make a big noise.
They're cowards anyway. You'll see."
The bullies had given in almost at once. But the
four fighters had chased them a couple of blocks
before they had collapsed in the snow and let them go.
How they had laughed! How strong Bernard had
seemed! A mighty champion like Saint George slaying
the dragon!
But even Saint George could not help her now.
"Nothing's got into me," she said sullenly, hating
herself because she was lying to Bernard, but not
knowing what else to do.
How could she explain about Rudi and what
Gretchen had said and how she had boasted? It would
all sound stupid. It was stupid.
Bernard stayed by her a moment longer, in case she
changed her mind. Anna sat still.
l
j
Go away,she thought. Just go away.
"All right, Bernard," MissWilliams said. "It's time
we got started."
Anna's class was small. They were like a family.
Closer than some families. They knew Anna better,
cared about her more, in many ways, than Rudi and
Gretchen, Frieda and Fritz. As the morning went on
and her unhappiness remained, they all felt it.
"Isobel, you have half your arithmetic wrong!"
Miss Williams exclaimed.
Isobel was a mathematical genius.
"I'm sorry," Isobel said, flushing. She looked over
at Anna, who was staring blindly at her speller. "I just
couldn't keep my mind on it," she confessed.
Miss Williams looked at Anna too.
"Miss Williams, may I go and get a drink?" Ben
asked suddenly.
"This is your third drink in an hour," the teacher
said.
Ben squirmed. "I'm hot," he mumbled.
He did not look at Anna but he might as well have.
MissWilliams said quietly, "All right, Benjamin, but
come right back."
"My stomach aches," Jane Summers said when it
was nearly noon.
~·
..·
Anna wasstartled out of her own misery. She looked
over at Jane, only to find J~j!.staring back at her, her
face screwed up with worry. Anna blinked. Then she
decided she was crazy.
"Put your head down on your desk and rest for a
while, Jane," Miss Williams said. "Maybe it'll be
better in a minute or two."
A moment later she said, "Bernard, haven't you
anything to do?"
Anna glanced up again, in greater surprise. Bernard
always worked hard. He was going to be famous when
he grew up. He was going to write an encyclopedia.
But he was sitting with a pile of spitballs on his desk,
right out in the open.
He too gave Anna a sudden look. Then he swept
the spitballs out of sight and opened a book. He did
not even try to make an excuse.
'Tm reading," he said instead.
Anna watched him out of the corner of her eye. She
did not want Bernard to get into trouble. She waited
for him to turn a page. He just sat. Minutes passed.
The page never turned.
They all went home for lunch. They all came back.
Anna's unhappiness returned with her.
Nobody knew how to help. Nobody could guess
what was wrong. Everybody waited and watched,
waited and grew more and more on edge. ·
Anna was back at her speller. She had not learned
anything before lunch. Now the list of words in front
of her still made no sense. Suddenly, hopelessly, she
jammed the speller out of sight into her desk. As she
did, her fingers brushed against the book Miss Williams had given her. Her own book. Her challenge.
Robert Louis Stevenson would know how I feel,
Anna thought. Probably, when he was small, he often
wanted to do things and didn't know how.
She took the book out and opened it to the first
poem of all. It was a poem she had not seen before
because it was really the dedication and it came ahead
of the title page. Also, it was written in a script that
was harder to read than the other poems. Maybe she
had seen it and decided it was too hard and skipped it.
The letters were difficult to make out.
It seemed important, though, to read it now, hard
or not. The title was a long name which Anna could
not pronounce. She did not bother trying. Only half
taking in what she read, she started at the top of the
first verse. He was writing it to someone who had lain
awake, watching over him. She reached the third line.
For your most comfortable hand
Which led me through the uneven land . . .
That she knew all about. It was the land where
Awkward Anna lived and where she did not know
what to do. If only there were a comfortablehand she
could take! She understood exactlywhat a comfortable
hand must be. "Get comfortable," Miss Williams
would say and they would all relax, ready for a record
or a story. "Are you comfortable,my little one?" Papa
would ask, coming up to tuck in her covers.
Oh, Papa, Papal Anna thought, needing his help so
badly, and yet knowing she could not ask for it.
Then the first tear slid down her nose.The first ...
151
and the second . . . and the third. She could not stop
them. Anna Elisabeth Solden, who never cried unless
she was by herself and sure of being left alone, was
crying now in front of a whole roomful of peopleand there was not a single thing she could do about it.
Giving up pretending nothing was the matter, Miss
Williams fetched a chair and sat down beside the
weeping child.
"Tell me about it," she said quietly. "Maybe there's
some way I can help."
"There is nothing . . ." choked Anna.
"Yes, Anna, there is something." Miss Williams
stayed where she was:
Ben came and stood on Anna's other side. Isobel
put down her pencil with a sigh of relief and added
her voice to the teacher's.
"Go on and tell her, Anna. Miss Williams will
know what you can do. Just tell."
Not daring to hope, Anna started to explain.
From the beginning, everyone listened. When she
finished, even the oldest two were nodding in agreement. They, too, wanted a Christmas gift they could
give their parents. They, too, with their poor vision,
had always been awkward and unskilled.
"If I could only read music . . ." Mavis Jones said
wistfully. "The piano teacher gets so mad!"
"My Aunt Mary keeps saying and saying I. could
learn to knit if I'd just hold my needles the way she
does," Josephine Pdersfiio put in. "She tells me to
watch-but I can't see what she means, and she can't
understand why."
The boys could not use tools the way their fathers
did, the way even their brothers did, so easily, so
quickly.
Anna was not, after all, the only odd man out. That
was what Miss Williams called it-being the odd man
out.
Jimmy Short had tried having a paper route. "But
I couldn't see the numbers on the houses," he said.
"I can't make change fast, either. Nickelsand quarters
look too much the same."
"None of us can earn money, really," Bernard
summed it up, "or make anything good. I want to
make one really good thing, just once-and watch their
eyes pop!"
"You are a show-off,Bernard," Miss Williams told
him. Bernard laughed, not minding. In spite of her
teasing, he knew the teacher understood.
All the rest of the day the children could feel her
thinking. They were extra good, especiallyquiet. Nobody raised an unnecessary question. Ben stopped
going for drinks from the fountain. Nobody asked to
leave the room for any reason.
"Let's make sure I have this clear," Miss Williams
said finally. "Perhaps I can help but it will take Some
planning. We'd need money for supplies....
You
don't want to ask for money at home, am I right?"
Nobody wanted to ask for money.
153
152
"It has to be a surprise," Anna said. "The othersRudi and Gretchen and the twins-will all have surprises."
"Yes, Anna, I know," the teacher said.
"Wait and see," Isobel whispered to Anna. "She'll
find a way. Miss Williams can do anything."
But maybe there is no way, thought Anna.
She looked at Isobel's face, bright with faith. She
studied Miss Williams' face, deep in thought. Suddenly, it seemed to Anna terribly important to believe. Maybe if she believed hard enough, it would
help.
I do believe. There will be a way, Anna whispered
under her breath.
Then, all at once, Miss Williams smiled. Her head
lifted.
"What is it, Miss Williams?" .Ben asked excitedly.
"I think ...
you'll have to wait and see, Ben," the
teacher answered.
But everyone knew that it had happened. A way
had been found.
154
16 • ANNA WORKS A MIRACLE
They were going to make wastepaper baskets.
Anna stared uncertainly at the queer collection of
things Miss Williams said they were going to need.
There were circles and ovals of wood.with holes drilled
in a neatly spaced row around each edge. There were
bundles of straight sticks, cream-colored and clean.
There were lengths of reed, rolled ·up and tied in
bunches so they would not spring free and trail all
over the room. Some of the reeds were flat and as wide
as her finger.. Some were round and thin like brittle
brown twine.
It looked complicated. It looked much too hard for
155
her to do by herself. Yet she had to do it on her own.
The others were not having help.
Miss Williams did not look worried.
"I wish I had a finished basket to show you," she
told the troubled faces grouped around her. "But it
will be all right. I promise you."
Anna was comforted. She had never known the
teacher to break a promise.
"Miss Williams, where did you get this stuff? Who
paid?" asked Bernard, who did understand about the
Depression; his father had been without work for
three months.
Miss Williams smiled at him and then at Anna.
"A friend of Anna's bought most of the materials,"
she told the class.
"A friend of Anna's!"
"Boy, Anna, who's your rich friend?"
"I have no such friend," Anna protested. She could
not believe Miss Williams would have betrayed her
but she had to know. "You didn't tell? It isn't Papa?"
"Not your father," the teacher said quickly. "You
have other friends. It was Dr. Schumacher."
"Dr. Schumacher!" Anna breathed.
"Where did he find so much money?" Bernard asked
practically.
"Doctors are all rich," Josephine Peterson told him.
"That is not true, Josie," the teacher corrected her.
"Now people are having a hard time paying their bills,
so they often leave the doctor till last. ·But Dr.
Schumacher has no wife and children of his own to
1
l!'
make Christmas for-and Anna is a special friend of
his. He told me so himself."
Anna remembered how she had felt that day in his
office when the doctor had said she must go to a special
class.
He said I would like it and I do, Anna thought. He
was my friend even then.
"He didn't do it all," guessed Bernard, studying the
supplies. "I'll bet you helped,' Miss Williams."
"A little," the teacher admitted, her cheeks flushing
under his direct gaze. "I have no family in Toronto
either."
"How about your mother and your sisters?" the class
wanted to know.
Miss Williams had often told them stories about her
childhood. They knew her family well.
"They're in Vancouver." The teacher got busy as
she talked, moving books on her desk. "It's too far to
.go for Christmas but I already have a box full of
presents from out West."
.
The others were-distracted by talk of presents. Only
Bernard still remained grave and Anna thoughtful.
I could ask Papa to invite them, she told herself. It
can't hurt to ask. Miss Williams would like our tree.
Dr. Schumacher is busy, but maybe he'd have time that
night.
"Now let's begin," Miss Williams said.
Anna was still worried ·but she watched carefully
and listened hard. It did not sound impossible.
First they had to choose the shape they wanted their
baskets to be. Anna picked an oval base. It looked good
and big-she did not want to make a small present. She
had just learned how to use a ruler. She took hers out
of her desk and measured the piece of wood. It was six
inches wide at the center and ten inches long. Anna
smiled and put the ruler back.
Next they put the reeds to soak in a bucket of water.
Anybody could do that. Anna did it carefully, slowly.
Josie hurried and broke one of her reeds.
"Treat them gently, Josie," Miss Williams warned.
"Watch how Anna handles hers."
By the middle of the afternoon the reeds were pliable
enough to weave. Anna put in the upright pegs first.
They had to be even. She placed each one slowly, coaxing it, guiding it through the correct hole, measuring
first with her eyes and then with her ruler.
"That's it, Isobel. Good, Veronica," Miss Williams
went from one to another. "Not so fast, Jimmy. They're
uneven at the top."
She paused by Anna's desk. The others were getting
ahead of Anna but she was paying no attention to that.
She wanted this basket to be just right, like something
Gretchen would make, or Mama.
"That's perfect, Anna," the teacher said.
Perfect I
Anna started to tuck in the ends, one behind the
other, so that the underside of her basketwould be trim
and neat. It made an attractive pattern. She stopped
to admire it.
"Let me see that," Isobel said, reaching for it. "Oh,
I get it. Thanks, Anna."
She handed the basket back and bent her head over
her own, undoing her mistake and fixing it. Anna
blinked with surprise.
Then, intently, she listened as Miss Williams explained how to do the actual weaving of the reeds. It
sounded almost easy: You started with the thin ones.'
Anna reached for a length of reed. Her hand shook.
Catch the end behind one of the uprights.
She did that. For an instant, she felt all thumbs. The
reed slipped loose. Anna bit her lip and began again,
more slowly.This time it stayed put. She took a deep
breath, gathered her courage, and started to weave.
In and out, in and out. Each time she had to pull the
whole long whip-endof reed all the waythrough. What
seemed like yards and yards of it curled and coiled
around her. There! She had done it.
Now pull it tight.
Not too tight, Anna reminded herself.
It must fit snugly around the straight sticks, but
pulled too hard, it might break. She tugged at it until
it felt exactly the way it should. She did not wonder
how she was so certain. Her hands knew.
Miss Williams came to her again. There was not a
-,
mistake in the child's work. She was concentrating so
intently that she wasnot even aware of the woman who
stood watching her.
"How deft your fingers are, Annal" Miss Williams
said.
Anna's head jerked up. She stared at the teacher.
What did "deft" mean?
"Deft means quick and clever," the teacher answered
her unspoken question. "Sure of themselves."
Anna knew that up till that very moment, she had
had clumsy hands.
"Let me do it, Anna," Mama or Gretchen or even
Frieda had often said impatiently. Rudi still called
her Awkward Anna when he thought about it.
Now she had deft fingers.
Anna went on weaving the reeds around and around,
over and under, over and under. As she worked deftly,
neatly, nimbly, 'a new song was singing itself inside
her heart.
A Christmas present,
I am making my Christmas present.
I am making my very own.
It will be from me.
A Christmas present,
A surprise for a Christmas present!
I am making it by myself
And Papa will see.
She had never known such joy. But Miss Wiliiams
made them stop long before they were finished.
"There is still something called Spelling," she told
them dryly. "And Arithmetic, too, Jimmy."
The next day she gave them time to work on the
baskets again, though. Slowly the sides rose. Anna
finished with the narrow round reeds and began to
weavethe Hatones. In and out, in and out.
"My hand's tired," Josie complained. Her basket
was messy too.
Anna's hand was not one bit tired. And her basket
was not messy.
"She's pretty good for a kid, isn't she?" Bernard said
to Miss Williams.
"Not just for a kid," MissWilliams answered."Anna
has a gift for taking infinite pains."
Even Bernard had to have that explained, though he
had spoken English all his life.
I wishI could make him a present too, Anna thought.
And Isobel and Ben . . . and MissWilliams . . . and
Dr. Schumacher.
She could never do it. Not five more presents! She
who had not even been able to make one until Miss
Williams showed her how. But she thought about it,
as her hands pulled the long reeds through and pushed
them back. She thought and she began to see how she
might.
The basket must be done first though. Her excitement mounted as she neared the end. When she was
two inches from the top, she went back to the thin,
round reeds. It was like making a border. Then, suddenly, it wascomplete. It stood almost a foot high. The
sides slanted out a little, gracefully. (Several of the
others had not been able to manage this. Theirs went
straight up like stovepipes.) All the ends were tucked
in out of sight. There were no gaps. Anna turned it
around slowly, gloating over it.
"Take your pencils and print your initials on the
bottom," Miss Williams instructed. "I have arranged
to have them painted at the School for the Blind. I
wouldn't want you to get them mixed up when they
come back."
Anna laughed. As though she would ever confuse
her basket with anybody else's! She printed her initials
clearly on the white wood.
A. E. S.
Then the baskets were taken away.
At home, the' other four were busy with their plans.
Gretchen waited and waited for Papa to offer her the
money so she could refuse. Papa seemed to have forgotten.
"You'd better tell him anyway," Rudi decided. "We
want them not to worry."
"About the Christmas money, Papa ... "Gretchen
began that night at supper.
Mama interrupted. Her face was very red and she
did not look at the children while she talked. She
stared at a spot on the table.
"Gretchen, I was meaning to tell you. This year
Papa and I would rather not have any presents. Your
love, that is enough for us. We ...
Really, that is
the way we want it. There will still be the tree, of
course. Don't be afraid. But
"
"That's fine, Mama," Gretchen managed to break
in. "I ...
we ... "
Rudi kicked her under the table and she was quiet.
"We understand," Rudi told his par~nts. "Don't
worry."
Later, when the children found themselves alone for
a moment, he said to the others, "It's even better this
way. They won't expect a thing. It will be a complete
surprise."
"Three complete surprises," Fritz reminded him
with a giggle.
Anna said nothing at all.
As Christmas Eve drew closer and closer, the four
older children would not tell each other what they
were up to, but hints flew back and forth. Gretchen hid
her knitting quick as a wink when Papa or Mama came
into the room and she would not let anyone look at it
closely. But they all knew it was something blue-and
then something yellow.
The twins were shoveling snow after school. Not
niany people could pay to have snow shoveled, but
Frieda and Fritz had kept asking from door to door
until they found two or three customers.
Rudi was busy playing hockey.
"Don't worry about me. I have days and days yet,"
he told them.
"But what are you planning to get?" Fritz plagued
him. "Just give us a rough idea. We're getting something Papa will really like, something he doesn't have
-and
always wanted."
165
"We hope," Frieda added.
"Mine's going to be something that's a special
Christmas thing. . . . You'll see when the time comes.
I have to go." Rudi brushed by them and was gone
into the winter world of ice and hockey sticks and
pucks. He felt completely Canadian.
Anna did not hint. Nobody knew, nobody for one
second suspected that she too was working on a Christmas gift. The other four did not think of her· at all.
.1
17 •THE
DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
One night, Anna went to Papa with her amazing
idea.
It's only Papa, she reminded herself as she tried to
decide on the right words.
But she had to screw up her courage and the words
came out all muddled. Staring down at her father's
shoes, Anna almost wished she had not even tried.
"Dr. Schumacher and Miss Williams!" Papa exclaimed. "But . . . but why, Anna?"
"Miss Williams' mother is in Vancouver and Betty
and Joan are too. They're her sisters," Anna explained
in a rush. "But Miss Williams cannot go to see them
because there's no money this year."
Papa nodded. That much he understood.
"And Miss Williams said Dr. Schumacher has no
wife or children. Maybe he does have a mother,
though . . ." Anna stopped at this new, startling
thought.
"No," Papa said. "Franz has no family. He was
raised in an orphanage in Berlin."
Anna lifted her head at that. Eagerness lighted her
face. "Then he might want to come," she cried. "They
both might."
Her father rubbed his chin. His answer came slowly.
"Anna, my darling, you know we ourselves will not
have such a large Christmas. There will be no wonderful presents. No skates, I'm afraid."
Anna hurried to comfort him. "Gretchen already
knows. Don't worry, Papa," she said.
"Does she?" Papa sighed. Then he looked thoughtful
again. Reaching out, he held her by both shoulders.
"About these people coming though, Anna . . ."
"It isn't only the presents," Anna said.
Yet, if Papa did not understand, she knew no way to
make it clear. She twisted free and ran for the door.
"All right. I will ask," her father called after her.
She did not tum. He did not know whether she had
heard.
Anna had not heard, but by the next morning, she
was too busy to brood over it any longer. She was
making and finding other gifts. She began with Isobel's.
It was hard to get it done without Isobel looking over
168
her shoulder and asking questions. At last Anna went
to the teacher and asked if she could stay in at recess
to work on it.
"May I see it when it is done?" Miss Williams asked.
"It is a funny present," Anna said very seriously.
"It is ...
how do you say it? ...
a joke."
"A joke!"
Anna nodded, still not smiling. "I will let you see,"
she promised.
She made Isobel a dictionary. On each page was a
word Isobel had taught Anna during the months they
had known each other. Above the words were pictures.
When she took it shyly to Miss Williams, the teacher
laughed aloud.
"Oh Anna, I knew you had imagination but I never
dreamed you had such a sense of humor," she said.
She was looking at the page which said "Undertaker." The picture showed a coffin. Anna herself was
sitting bolt upright in it. She was calling, "Help!" Her
braids stuck straight up in the air with horror and her
eyes, behind her glasses, were perfectly round. Isobel,
ringlets and all, was the undertaker, spade in hand.
There was another picture of Isobel as a lamplighter,
falling off her ladder. There was one of Halloween,
with a ghost chasing Isobel, who dashed madly across
the page. All the pictures were full of action and fun.
Isobel starred in each one.
Anna wrote a poem for Ben. She had a feeling it was
not a terribly good poem, not like Robert Louis Steven16~
------
l1,
--
-·-------·
son's. But it said what she felt. She lettered it carefully
on a Christmas card she made out of construction
paper.
Benjamin Nathaniel
Is as brave asDaniel.
When snowballs fiy
Through the sky,
When big boys came
And yelled a bad name,
Ben does not run away.
He sayswe must stay.
He gets Bernard to come
And we all help some.
Then the big boys are made
Very afraid.
We get them to run
But Ben is the one
Who tells us to stay
And not run away.
Benjamin Nathaniel
Is braver than Daniel.
We stand by his side
With pride.
Smiling, she hid it awayin her desk.
What could she do for Bernard, though? She knew
she could not write another poem. Ben's had taken
her days.
Then, like a miracle, she found a dime on the sidewalk. She could buy Bernard a present-and she knew
exactlywhat he would like: rubber bands for shooting
spitballs! She got them at the store from Papa.
"What do you want them for?" Papa asked.
"It is a secret," said Anna.
Papa looked at the dime in her hand.
"There wasnobody near who could have dropped it.
I looked," she assured him.
"You buy ice cream and I could just let you have the
rubber bands," Papa offered. The Soldens did not sell
ice cream.
Anna shook her head.
"I want to pay for them, Papa," she insisted.
Her father gave her the elastics. She hurried away
before Mama got curious too.
Now she had something for everyone but Miss Williams and the doctor. Once again it was like a miracle.
A· package arrived from Aunt Tania in Frankfurt.
Mama handed out pieces of marzipan. Anna got two.
The other children gobbled theirs up at once. Anna
put hers carefully away. All her gifts were ready.
Dr. Schumacher himself delivered the baskets back
to the classroom.
"I couldn't carry them all at once, Eileen," he said.
"I'll fetch the rest."
Isobel nudged Anna.
"What is it?" Anna whispered, staring not at Isobel
but at the heap of baskets on the teacher's desk.
"He called her Eileen!"
"Did he?" Anna said, still paying no attention.
Now Miss Williams was handing out the baskets
171
one by one. They were beautiful beyond belief. Had
something happened to hers?
"And here's Anna's," Miss Williams said.
She placed it on the girl's desk. Anna made no move
to touch it. She simply stared. It was dark green now,
with tiny threads of gold running through it. It was the
most splendid thing, the most incredibly perfect present she had ever seen.
She looked down at her own two hands in wonder.
They looked just as usual. Her fingernails were dirty.
Could those hands actually have made this basket?
With intense care, she picked it up and looked.
There, on the bottom, in her very own printing, it
said "A. E. S."
School was over. The other children bundled into
their coats, clutched their baskets, and headed for
home.
"Coming, Anna?" Isobel asked.
"Not right now," Anna said. "You go ahead."
She sat at her desk and waited. Dr. Schumacher was
still there too. He and Miss Williams laughed together.
"I told you she was in love," Isobel whispered and,
shrugging at Anna's blank face, she too departed.
The teacher noticed Anna a moment later.
"Oh, Anna, I thought you went with the others,"
she said. "Was there something you wanted?"
"May I leave my basket here till the last day?" Anna
asked.
Miss Williams glanced at the doctor, who stood
listening. Then she turned back to Anna.
"Of course you may," she said gently.
She did not ask why. She knew that Anna still kept
her beloved book of Stevenson's poems in her desk.
She had not even taken it home overnight.
"How are the glasses working?" Franz Schumacher
asked.
Anna looked up at him through them. She wished
she had words to tell him what he had done for her.
"They are very good, thank you," she said primly.
"I remember when I first got my glasses," Dr.
Schumacher said. "What an exciting place the world
was, all at once! So full of things I had not dreamed
were there! ...
Would you like a ride home, Miss
Solden?"
He knows about the glasseswithout me telling, Anna
thought. He knows how glad I am.
She was not sure about taking the ride, though.
Mama was so fussy about them taking rides. Then she
looked at Dr. Schumacher again.
"I would like a ride," she said.
"How about you, Eileen?" he asked then.
"No. I'll be awhile yet," she said. "Thank you
anyway."
"I'll see you at eight, then," Dr. Schumacher said.
Anna, putting on her coat, almost missed those last
words. Then everything Isobel had said fell into place.
Miss Williams and the doctor-in love! I
Anna was glad Isobel had gone. She would not have
known what to say to her. The whole idea would take
getting used to.
The girl and the man drove along in a comfortable
silence. He did not pester her with the usual grown-up
questions.
"That basket of yours is beautiful work, Anna," he
said once. "You can be very proud of it."
"Yes," said Anna simply. "I am."
But when she got out of the car, she did remember
to thank him. She even invited him in, although her
parents would not be home yet. Mama always invited
people in. At least, she had in Frankfurt.
"Another time, little one," he said with a smile.
Anna walked into the house humming to herself.
He had called her "little one" the way Papa did. And,
long ago, he had said she was "as light as a feather"
and "a challenge."
His hair is gray, though. H~ is too old for Miss
Williams, Anna decided.
Then the image of her lovely basket rose before
her, and, forgetting the doctor and her teacher, she
went slowly up the stairs, hugging close to herself her
Christmas secret. Somehow she must manage not to
tell.
The time passed like a turtle dawdling. But bit by
bit, it did go by. At last it was the final day of school,
the day before Christmas Eve.
That night Anna carried her basket home clasped
in her arms as tenderly as if it were a newborn baby.
As she walked, she thought of how Isobel had
laughed till tears ran down her cheeks when she went
through her dictionary. Ben had been struck speechless
by his poem.
"May I put it on the bulletin board?" MissWilliams
asked.
Both Ben and Anna blushed. Ben nodded.
"The kid's a genius," Bernard said proudly, as
though it were his doing.
Then she had produced his rubber bands.
"Oh, Annal" Miss Williams had gasped, laughing
almost as hard as Isobel had a few moments before.
"Don't you have any respect for my peace of mind?"
Anna had shaken her head. Both her dimples had
showed.
"Watch it, kid,"· Bernard had warned. "You're
getting as fresh as a Canadian.''
"I am a Canadian," Anna told him.
She had left the piece of marzipan on MissWilliams'
desk when the teacher was out of the room for a moment. The teacher had not discoveredit before Anna
left. She was glad. It was such a small bit of candy.
She still had Dr. Schumacher'sat home. Maybe Papa
would help her to deliver it-maybe they could drop
it into his letter box.
She was nearly home. She hugged the basket more
closelyand kept an eye out for her brothers and sisters.
There was Frieda, shoveling the Blairs' walk. Anna
breathed quickly. But she got safelyby. Frieda did not
look up.
The others were busy when she entered the house.
175
'7.4
172
Nobody paid any attention as she walked across the
hall and up to her alcove. She tried hard to walk as
usual. Her feet kept wanting to leap and skip. When
the curtain was drawn, she knelt and hid the precious
basket away under her cot.
Excitement bubbled and boiled inside her when she
went back downstairs but she went on walking sedately.
She had kept this secret for weeks. She could get
through one more day.
Rudi was out late that night. Gretchen was shut in
her room, knitting frantically. The twins whispered
together. Mama and Papa looked tired but happier
than they had been. Anna watched everyone and waited
for the hours to pass. She counted the hours.
A full twenty-four, at least!
Her parents would have to work the next day even
though it was the day before Christmas. They might
even be late. They would probably not have the tree
ready till at least eight o'clock. Maybe nine even!
Now Mama was looking through Christmas tree
decorations they had brought from Frankfurt. Some
were broken. Was the angel broken? No-there she
was in Mama's hand.
All at once, Anna could stay there no longer. Without a word to anyone, she got up and went up to bed.
If she had not escaped and lain still, her face turned to
the wall, she was certain the magnificent truth would
have burst from her.
One more day, she chanted. One more day!
But the clock chimed eleven before she fell asleep.
18 • CHRISTMAS
EVE
1:.
The next night, as soon as Papa had his coat off,
the five children were sent out for a walk.
"As if we don't know what they're doing," Rudi
scoffed.
He had only just come in. His cheeks were still red
from the wind.
"You like it as much as we do, Rudi, so don't pretend you don't," Gretchen said.
Rudi did not answer, but Anna knew Gretchen was
right.
"Can't we go home now?" Fritz begged for the hundredth time.
His big brother consulted their father's watch,which
177
had been loaned to him for this exact reason.
"Fifteen minutes longer," he said.
"Fifteen I" Fritz wailed.
It sounded like eternity,
Anna thought fleetinglyof what Isobel had told her.
Isobel had helped choose her family's tree and had
join.edin trimming it. The Brownswould not celebrate
Christmas till tomorrow morning. There would be no
candles, only colored lights. Isobel had thought Anna's
way was "queer"-but Anna felt no envy.
Poor Isobel, she thought instead.
Then, suddenly it was time. They ran up the walk,
bumping into each other in their hurry. They got out
of their coats. ~11eyes were on the door to the living
room, tightly closed. Even Rudi forgot about being
oldest.
"Ready, Mama?" Papa asked.
"Ready," Mama said, behind the door.
Papa threw it open-and there, before their dazzled
eyes, stood the Christmas tree I
Anna could not have described it, although she saw
every detail: the glass balls, the tiny ·candlesblazing.
There were candy ornaments too, circletsof spun sugar,
chocolate balls done up in silver paper. At the very
top, the small angel perched, her gauzy wings catching
the light.
The Soldensmarched in singing. There was no English now, no thought of it. The song about the Christmas tree had to be in the language of the country from
which it had come, long ago.
0 Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
Wie griin sind deine Blatter!
As they sang, Anna felt she might burst with joy.
Next Papa read the Christmas story and prayed.
Then he washanding out presents. Anna had expected
maybe one present or two. But no! Soon she held a pair
of cherry red mittens Mama had made for her without
her ever knowing.
She must have done them late, after I was in bed,
Anna thought. She knew how tired her mother was at
nights. She swallowedand hugged the mittens to her.
There was a game too. Snakes and Ladders, it was
called. Anna opened it up and looked. With her glasses,
it waseasyto see. It wouldn't be like the old days when
nobody wanted her to play. She would show them what
she could do with this game of her own.
"Thank you, Papa," she said. "Mama, thank you."
"Something else for Miss Anna Elisabeth Solden,"
Papa said.
It wasn't a doll with curly hair and eyes that opened
and shut. That was what Isobel wanted. It was something which pleased Anna even more.
"A book!" she breathed.
It was called Now We Are Six. Papa had written
inside the front.
"For my Anna, who loves to read poems, with love
from Papa."
How had he known? Oh, of course he knew about
her loving poems! He had taught her many by heart.
179
---------
But that she could read a book by herself?An English
book!She raised wondering eyesto him. He caught her
look and smiled.
"Miss Williams and I had a talk," he said simply.
Anna blushed. She would bring home A Child's
Garden of Verses right after Christmas. She should
have done it before.
Throughout the excitement of opening their presents, though, all fivechildren were preoccupied, thinking more of the gifts they had to give than of those-they
were getting.
How amazed Papa and Mama were going to be!
Stunned!
"How about some carols," Mama suggested.
Rudi held up his hand like a young king.
"No. Wait," he commanded.He turned to Gretchen,
his blue eyesblazing. "You first, Gretel," he said.
Gretchen had her things hidden under the couch
cushions. "Papa, Anna, get up!" she ordered.
She had made each of her parents a scarf. A soft
yellow one for Mama, a bright blue one for Papa.
"The color of your eyes," Gretchen said to Papa.
Mama's had a special lacy pattern which had kept
Gretchen busy counting stitchesfor days.
"Lovely, Gretel. So beautiful," Mama said proudly.
"But I told you ... "
"I know," the girl told her, "but we all have something, all but Anna, of course."
Anna tensed but remained silent.
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Mama was draping her scarf around her neck. It
set off her dark hair beautifully. Gretchen glowed.She
sent a sidelong look at Rudi. Beat that if _youcan, it
said.
"Twins," Rudi directed.
"Our present is for Papa," Fritz apologized to his
mother.
Fritz and Frieda had wrapped up the parcel in
special paper they had made.
"Like Canadians," Fritz explained.
Papa opened the package carefully. Inside was a
pipe and, with it, pipe tobacco,a tobacco pouch, pipe
cleanersand matches.The twins had started shopping,
sure they had a fortune to spend, but by the time they
had bought their father everything they thought he
would need, their funds had vanished.
"Perhaps you could smoke it too, Mama?" Frieda
suggested.
"Maybe ... maybe," Mama nodded solemnly.
They all burst out laughing then, the twins laughing
hardest of all.
Papa had difficultygetting his pipe started. He had
never smoked a pipe before; he admitted. The entire
family watched with interest. Anna sat on her hands
and fought to keep herself from dashing up for the
basket. It should be last, she was certain. She was the
youngest.
Papa puffed thoughtfully. Then he coughed.
"A fine pipe, twins," he wheezed,wiping away tears.
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Tears of joy, Frieda told herself happily.
"A truly magnificent present," Papa went on, holding the pipe away from himself and regarding it with
respect.
Rudi left the room then. The rest waited eagerly.
Although their brother had walked out so calmly, they
knew he was terribly excited. His present was sure to
be something extraordinary.
He returned carrying a tall, scraggly poinsettia.
Without a word, he held it out to his mother. Mama
held the chipped pot on her knee and gazed up at the
red flower which came just above her eyes.
"Rudi, a real Christmas flower," she gasped, her
dark eyes wide. "How did you get this? We never had
anything prettier, even at home in Frankfurt, did we,
Ernst?"
Rudi reddened. Slowly at first, and then all in a rush,
he made his confession.
"I meant to get something a long time ago, but I
didn't even notice the days going. They needed me at
the rink because I'm the fastest skater really. When I
went to try to get work, all the snow had all been
shoveled. I thought I could be a delivery boy but everywhere I asked, they said no. You had to have a bicycle."
The family sat listening silently as his words
stumbled on. This was so unlike Rudi, always proud
and right. He gave them no chance to interrupt. He
wanted to get it over with. He was past the worst part
now. He put his hands in his pockets and relaxed.
"Then I went to Mr. Simmons' flower shop. It was
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. . . last night. I was sure there would be nothing.
But he's nice at church and I've seen him in your store,
Papa. And he said, 'Are you Ernst Solden's boy?' I told
him yes, and how I'd tried for a job but couldn't find
one. I didn't beg, though, Papa."
"I know that, Rudi," Papa said. They all knew that.
"Well, he said if I wanted to take a couple of lastminute orders to people who live near here, he'd give
me a plant nobody had bought. -That's why I was late
getting home last night. I was working," Rudi ended
proudly, as pleased with himself as ever.
"It is beautiful, Rudi, and you were a brave boy to
keep trying that way," Mama said warmly.
"Papa, don't you like your pipe?" Fritz asked anxiously. Papa had let it go out.
"I do. I do indeed!" Ernst Solden said, picking it up
and holding it as though it were precious. "It takes
getting used to, that is all, Fritz. Right now, I cannot
pay attention to everything else and smoke my new
pipe properly all at the same time."
Fritz smiled with relief. Rudi frowned at having
his moment of triumph interrupted. He wondered
suddenly if Papa really did like the twins' present. That
pipe tobacco had a strange smell. Rudi tried to breathe
shallowly.
Mama was still lost in admiration of the poinsettia.
"I do not know where to put this," she hesitated,
touching the red leaves lovingly. "Perhaps on the
mantel ... "
She got up and tried the flower there, setting it right
in the center in the position of honor. Papa had to hold
the plant for her while she actually moved the chiming
clock to one side. When the flower was centered, she
stepped back and studied it. Everybody else studied it
too. It was important that it be right. It was rightexactly.
"Perfect," Mama said, turning to face her family.
In that moment, Anna was gone. She who always
walked heavily, uncertain of where her feet would
land, now slipped from the room without a sound.
"Anna ... " Mama started to call after her. Ernst
Solden put out his hand quickly and touched her arm.
"No, Klara. Wait. She'll be right back," he said.
The others had not even seen Anna go. They were
telling each other all over again about their adventures
getting the gifts: how Mama .had nearly caught
Gretchen knitting more than once, what trouble the
twins had had deciding which pipe to choose, the places
Rudi had had to deliver flowers.
Mama put her hands over her ears.
"Oh, it is good Christmas is not every day!" she
cried. "I am nearly deaf."
But she was still worried about Anna. Whatever
Ernst said, maybe she should go and see. The little
one should not be left out.
And then, there stood Anna herself with the wastepaper basket.
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19 • FROM ANNA
It wasnot wrapped. But Anna had stopped at Papa's
desk and found a piece of plain paper. On it she had
printed briefly,in large letters,
fr-om Anno
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The letters wobbled and were uneven because, despite
her care, she could not keep her hand from shaking.
She had folded the paper and hung it over the edge of
the basket. Now she simply thrust the whole thing at
her mother and said in a voice which was almost defiant,
"There. I made it at school."
Mama stared at the basket and then at the child who
had pushed it into her hands. Her eyes were disbelieving. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Papa,
who had sat down, started to get up again. Then he
smiled a slow smile and sank back in his chair. This
time, it was up to Klara.
At last Mama's voice returned.
"Annal Oh, mein Liebling, how ...
how wonder-
ful! I cannot . . . Ernst, look! Do you see?Anna has
given us a basket. You did not make this, Anna, your
own self?"
"Yes, I did," Anna said, standing straight. She felt
like a giant, like a soaring bird, like a Christmas tree
with every candle alight.
Mama turned suddenly away from the small bright
face before her. Her hands trembled too as she set the
basket down for an instant. Then she reached up and
took down Rudi's flower. In its place, she put Anna's
green and gold basket, and in the basket she placed the
Hower.The poor pot which held it no longer showed.
The poinsettia glowed, lovelier than ever.
As Mama did this, nobody in the room moved. Nobody spoke.Mama herself broke the silencefinally.She
186
rI
l
stood, looking up at basket and flower,and she said in
a choked voice, "I was the blind one all this time. Dr.
Schumacher should have given me the glasses."
The words made no sense to Anna. Mama had perfect eyesight. The other four children were also bewildered. But Papa said quickly, "It has not been only
you, Klara. We have all failed to see."
Before anyone could figure this out, Mama whirled
around and caught Anna to her so swiftlythat the girl
had no time to dodge. She hugged her small daughter
close.
"Tonight . . . tonight you are the dearest, dearest
child," Mama said.
She knew Anna would hate to be cried over but she
could not help it, and after all, it did not matter. She
went on hugging Anna harder than ever, trying to put
into the embrace all the other times when Anna had·
needed to be held and had been hurt instead.
Anna squirmed.
So this was how it was! All this glow and warmth
inside and around you, and yet a wrongnessthere too,
becausethe others were being left out.
Rudi won't like his flower to be in my basket, she
thought.
She remembered Gretchen offering to knit some'."
thing from her, Anna. Suddenlyshe wassure Gretchen
had meant to be kind.
And the twins . . . how must they feel? They had
given Mama nothing.
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"Don't, Mama," Anna mumbled, pulling to get free.
Rudi spoke then, his voice loud and hard.
"She must have had help," he said.
Right away, the two older girls nodded.
"Anna didn't make that herself," Fritz backed up
his brother. "She couldn't."
Papa was on his feet with frightening abruptness.
He towered over them, taller than they had ever seen
him.
But Anna spoke first. "You are right. I did. I had
help," she admitted.
She stood apart from Mama. now and faced her
brothers and sisters. Her voice, which had been high
and clear with excitementmoments before,had dulled,
grown almost hoarse. But she went on, explaining
how the miracle had happened.
"Miss Williams started us off and showed us how.
Dr. Schumacher bought the reeds and things. Some
other people painted them for us."
Her chin lifted then.
"I did weaveit though, all by myself,"she said.
Papa ignored her completely.He started with Rudi.
"How could you have brought home this plant without the help of Mr. Simmons, Rudolf?" he asked.
Rudi had no answer. If he had, he would not have
dared to speak. Papa's voice was terribly quiet but the
words stabbed, each one a dagger thrust. He had called
him Rudolf, too. That only happened when he was
in serious trouble.
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Papa waited, just in case. His son Rudolf seemed to
have stopped breathing. Ernst Solden turned from
him.
Gretchen knew she came next. She stared at the
shabby carpet and wished she were somewhere else.
Anywhere! She tried not to think of how Anna had
looked standing up in front of them all.
"And were you born knowing how to knit, Gretchen?" her father inquired coldly. "Who loaned you
the pattern book? Where did you get the wool?"
The others had not thought of. that. Wool did cost
money. Had Gretchen earned some?They darted little
questioning looks at her but she went on staring at
the floor.She knew, and Papa knew, that she had gone
to him for that money and that she had sneaked away
one of Mama's knitting books. She had to have wool
though. How could she have made·anything without
wool?
Papa did not even wait this time.
"Fritz, Frieda, we have no snow shovel. Yet you had
two to work with. I thought the neighbors loaned
them to you but they came from the air, did they?"
The twins sat side by side on the couch.
This can't be happening on Christmas Eve, Frieda
sobbed inside herself, to Fritz.
Fritz, without saying a word aloud, answered her
bleakly, This will be the worst Christmas of our lives.
When Papa had started, Mama had reached out for
Anna and pulled her down into a big chair by her side.
It was as though she knew Anna's knees had turned
to jelly. Now, though, without letting go her hold on
her youngest,she burst into angry speech.And she, too,
was on Papa's side against them! It was at the poor
twins she glared, missingtheir misery,seeingonly how
white Anna had looked before she got her to sit down.
"Your poor Papa was tired and cold but often ...
Do you remember, Fritz? Frieda, have you forgotten
so soon-he stopped to help you with that snow while
I went in to get supper. Maybe I am imagining things?"
Nobody said she was imagining anything. They all
knew she was going to cry again. One more minute
and they would all be crying!
Then Papa laughed instead. It croaked oddly, that
laugh, but it wasreal. Still they did not dare to believe.
"What are we doing?"Ernst Solden asked,the harshness gone as quickly as it had come. "Such trouble,
such long faces on Christmas Eve. This will never do.
All because Anna has given us a present. We should
be singing."
He drew Anna up out of her mother's sheltering
arms and stood her in front of him.
"Come, Anna, be happy," he told her. "Every one
of us would have been proud to make this basket. We
can all use it-for years and years! And every one of us
is proud of you, even if you did have help, because you
did this thing with love and for Christmas. How did
you keep such a secret for so long?"
Anna swallowed hard, blinked back the tears that
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190
were stinging her eyes, and fighting to sound like her
ordinary self, said, "I kept it at school till yesterdayand then under my bed."
All at once, Gretchen was standing up too. She forgot the awful unhappiness. She pushed dose to Papa
and grabbed Anna by the arm.
"It is wonderful, Anna, your basket," she blurted.
"You never hinted. Not even once!"
The ice was gone from their hearts, from the bright
room.
Frieda and Fritz talked together, their words tumbling over each other.
"It is lovely ... "
"Could you teach me how. . . ?"
"Nobody guessed: Nobody!"
Frieda spoke plaintively, breaking the last bit of
tension.
"Mama, I'm hungry," she announced.
So were the rest and they turned to their mother
expectantly. They knew she had a feast ready. She had
been baking every evening for the past week and, that
very afternoon, she had come home from work early,
shutting even Gretchen out of the kitchen while she
put on the last finishing touches.
Mama stayed where she was. Her dark eyes twinkled
at them.
"Not yet," she said.
"But, Mama . . "
"Anna's guests are still not here," Klara Solden said
calmly.
"Nobody guessed about your presents either," Anna
muttered, shyness and delight washing over her.
But Rudi still had not said anything. It was just a
dumb basket. His flower was still the best.
Looking away from the Hower, because he could
not help seeing the basket too, he caught his mother
watching him.
Rudi coughed. Then to his own surprise he found
himself, standing.
"I don't see how you did it, Anna," he said with
complete honesty. "You're just a little kid."
Now they were all laughing all together at the surprise in his voice. Even Mama, still seated in the big
chair, joined in. But her glance at Rudi made him feel
taller, beloved again, almost his old self.
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193
----
r
I
20 • ONE MORE SURPRISE
"Anna's guests!"
Rudi, Gretchen, Frieda and Fritz stared at their
mother. Anna tipped her face up and peered at her
father through her moons of glasses.
"Oh, Papa, you asked themI" she cried.
"Yes, I asked them," Papa smiled.
How excited she was! He had never seen her like
this, her cheeks so pink, her eyes shining. One of her
braids was undone and her glasseswere crooked. But
her dimples! Had she alwayshad dimples like that?
She's beautiful, her father thought.
"We must wait," he said, "hut they'll be here. Franz
194
is bringing her in his car." There was something in
Papa's voice.
Isobel's right, Anna thought. They are in love. Her
smile grew even wider.
"Let me go,Papa," she saidsuddenly, "I want to look
at my new things while we're waiting."
The others were still exclaiming over the fact that
Anna.had guests coming, but she could not stand being the center of attention another moment. She went
down on her knees beside the tree and picked up Now
We Are Six. She opened it and held it close to her
nose. Good. It smelled all right. The smell of a book
was important when you had to hold it so close.
And shehad a game, too, and the mittens. She pulled
on the mittens and snuggled her hands up against her
cheeks.
The doorbell rang.
"There they are, Anna," Papa said. "You go and let
them in."
She scrambled up from the floor and, snatching off
her mittens, grabbed at her father.
"You come too," she entreated. "I can't by myself."
Mama, worrying about what there was to eat, looked
at her impatiently.
"Don't be foolish," she urged, her voice sharpening
just a little. "You are keeping them waiting."
"It's all right, Klara. They won't mind a small thing
like that," laughed Papa.
He looked down into his daughter's panic-stricken
195
face. Gently, very gently, he teased, "I thought you
were my independent child, my Anna who goes her
own way," he said. "You don't need a hand to hold.
Not you!"
He was laughing at her. Her own Papa who never
laughed at her!
But now Bernard laughed at her every day. Isobel
was always laughing at her.
"You are funny, Anna," Isobel often said.
Even Miss Williams teased.
And Anna did not mind. Not any more.
"Please, please, Papa," she cried, tugging at his
sleeve, even smiling herself, but still wanting him.
"Come on then," he said and gave her his broad
hand.
Holding on, she felt her courage.return. She walked
proudly. She, Anna, had guests.
Not watching where she stepped, she stumbled over
a wrinkle in the rug. She would have fallen if Papa
had not kept hold o.fher.
"There goesAwkward Annal" Fritz laughed.
She turned to glare but the doorbell rang again.
"He said it for fun only," Papa told her, tightening
his grip on her hand.
Anna's dimples showed unexpectedly.
"Hurry, Papa," she begged, as though Fritz did not
exist.
Together they opened the door to MissWilliams and
the doctor.
196
"Merry Christmas, Anna."
"Merry Christmas, Miss Williams!"
"Oh, it's snowing! Look, Liebling, like stars!"
"Erbhliche Weihnachten, Franz."
They were inside. The door was shut against the
cold and the snow.Anna took her teacher's heavy coat
and staggered to the closet with it.
The others had come into the hall now, too. Greetings flew.Then Mama spoke out over them all.
"All right, Frieda. Now we may eat," she said.
They started to follow her, everyone laughing at
Frieda's red face.
Questions came at Anna thick and fast.
"Did they like the basket, Anna?" Miss Williams
asked.
"Did you surprise them? Did you keep it a secret?"
said the doctor.
Before she could begin to answer, the teacher added,
"And your tree, Annal Is it as beautiful as you told
us it would be? So lovely you would not even try to
draw a picture of it?"
"Ja," Anna said. "]a, ja, jal"
They could not eat now! She must make Mama
understand. They must go in and see the tree first.And
there was something else, something she had planned
to say for a long time but had kept putting off or forgetting.
Only I didn't really, Anna admitted to herself. I was
just afraid.
197
She was not afraid now. But first she must get Mama
to listen.
"Mama, Mama, stop. Wait!" she called out, as her
mother went to open the dining-room door.
Klara Solden turned. What now? Her mouth went
tight. Then she remembered what she had learned that
evemng.
"What is it, Anna?" she asked.
"We must go to the tree first for just one moment,"
said Anna.
Her mother hesitated.
But Papa nodded. "She is right, Klara," he said.
Mama let go of the doorknob and came with
them. They were standing in front of the tree. It
glowed. It was as beautiful as it had been in the very
first moment when Papa had let them in to see it.
Miss Williams' eyes were wide with wonder.
"I've never seen a tree lit with candles before," she
breathed. "Oh, it is lovely."
Anna had known she would like it. It was important
that she see it before anything else.
But now, now it was time for the other.
"Maybe later would be better," a voice inside her
whispered. "Maybe you should wait until there aren't
so many people."
Anna had listened to that voice before. Now she shut
her mind to it.
"Mama," she said quickly, while she was still brave,
"I have to tell you something."
"Not another surprise," Mama said.
She was still concerned about the food, although
really she did know she had more than enough. Yet
Dr. Schumacher might be a terribly hungry manl
She looked down and caught Anna waiting for her
to listen properly. Oh, she must find time for Anna.
From now on, she must always try to find time.
"Yes, Anna," she said, really listening.
"I can speak English," Anna announced.
She giggled then, because the words had come out
not in English but in German. Mama would not know
what to think. Anna tried again, this time switching
to her new language.
"I can speak English, Mama. Not just a little bit.
Really. I do it all the time at school. I even think in
English now mostly. I do it ...
almost as well as you
do."
She knew her English was better than Mama's, but
she loved Mama so much tonight.
"English!" Mama said in amazement, forgetting the
food entirely. "But at home you speak German only.
Day after dayl"
.,
"She certainly speaks English at school," Miss Williams said. "She's becoming quite a chatterbox. Isobel
is leading her astray."
"Are you surprised,, Mama?" Anna persisted. "Are
you happy?"
Klara Solden did not know herself how she felt. Her
smile did not waver, but there was sadness, too, on her
face, for an instant.
"I have no German child left," she said.
199
"They are all your children," Papa tola her, putting
his arm around her. "They are Canadian children
maybe, but they are all yours, meine Liebe. Yes,Anna,
she is surprised, and she is happy too."
"Mama, listen," Anna rushed on, paying no attention to Papa for once in her life. "Listen to what I have
learned for you."
She stood up straight, her feet set a little apart, her
hands clasped behind her, her head high. Above her,
her perfect basket stood on the mantel, holding Rudi's
flower.Taking a deep breath, she began to sing:
"Silent night, holy night,"
Anna led them on into the next verse. You could tell
that she was seeing the shepherds, was dazzled by the
angels.
She is special, my Anna, Papa thought, watching
her joyous face. I was right about her all along.
But Anna did not think of such things. She did not
remember being Awkward Anna. She did not tell herself she was Miss Williams' "cha!Ienge." She did not
even hug to her heart that moment when, finally, she
had become Mama's "dearest, dearest child."
In her heart it was Christmas, and she was busy
Singing.
·"Ach, 'Stille Nacht'!" Mama breathed. She was near
tears again but only for a moment.
Anna sang on in English:
"All is calm, All is bright"
Gretchen joined her then, their two voicesblending:
"Round yon Virgin mother and child,"
The other three children came in together on the
next line:
"Holy infant so tender and mild"
Then the adults sang too, Miss Williams very softly
in English, Dr. Schumacher, Papa and Mama in the
language in which the words were first written:
"Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,"
"Sleep in heavenly peace."
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